most like music. The church was dim, and
quiet, and nearly empty. The organ began to play--oh, so softly! It was
very beautiful, but still the boy shuddered, for he dimly realized that
the grim box held the sleeping form that seemed to be his mother, but
was not his real mother. _Her_ kisses were not frozen, and _she_ was in
Heaven with the angels.

The choir sang sweet music and the white-robed priest said more solemn
words that were like spoken music; then the procession moved slowly down
the aisle again and out of the door. The bell in the steeple was silent
now, and the organ was silent. Silently the procession moved--silently
the snow came down. Silently and softly, like white flowers. The green
graves were white with it now, like the flowers on the coffin lid; but
the open grave in the churchyard corner, near the wall--it was dark, and
deep and terrible! The boy's heart almost stood still as, clinging to
Nurse Betty's hand, he stared into its yawning mouth. He felt that he
would choke--would suffocate. They were lowering the box into that deep,
dark pit! What if the sleeping figure should awake, after all--awake to
the darkness and narrowness of that narrow bed!

With a piercing shriek the child broke from his nurse's hand and thrust
himself upon the arm of one of the black figures who held the ropes, in
a wild effort to stay him; then, still shrieking, was borne from the
spot.

CHAPTER II.

"Since it seems you have set your heart upon this thing, I do not forbid
it; but remember, you are acting in direct opposition to my judgment and
advice, and if you ever live to regret it (as I believe you shall) you
will have no one but yourself to blame."

John Allan's voice was harsher, more positive, than usual; his shoulders
seemed to square themselves and a frowning brow hardened an always
austere face. His whole manner was that of a man consenting against his
will. His young wife hung over his chair vainly endeavoring to smooth,
with little pats of her fair hands, the stubborn locks that _would_
stand on end, like the bristles of a brush, whatever she did. Her soft
and vivacious beauty was in striking contrast to the strength and
severity of his rugged and at the same time distinguished countenance.
His narrow, steel-blue eyes, deep sunk under bushy brows and a high, but
narrow, forehead, were shrewd and piercing; his nose was large and like
a hawk's beak. His face too, was narrow, with cheek-bones high as