ss was the sorrow of the orphan girl. She had
controlled her grief in the presence of her father and while he lingered
in life, only to give way now to its overwhelming force. Marah remained
with her, Holding her in her arms, weeping with her, praying for her,
doing all that the most tender mother could do to soothe, console and
strengthen the bleeding young heart.

The funeral of Doctor Day took place the third day from his decease, and
was attended by all the gentry of the neighboring town and county in
their own carriages, and by crowds who came on foot to pay the last
tribute of respect to their beloved friend.

He was interred in the family burial ground, situated on a wooded hill
up behind the homestead, and at the head of his last resting place was
afterwards erected a plain obelisk of white marble, with his name and
the date of his birth and death and the following inscription:

"He is not here, but is risen."

"When dear Clara comes to weep at her father's grave, these words will
send her away comforted and with her faith renewed," had been Traverse
Rocke's secret thought when giving directions for the inscription of
this inspiring text.

On the morning of the day succeeding the funeral, while Clara, exhausted
by the violence of her grief, lay prostrate upon her chamber couch, Mrs.
Rocke and Traverse sat conversing in that once pleasant, now desolate,
morning reading-room.

"You know, dear mother, that by the doctor's desire, which should be
considered sacred, Clara is still to live here, and you are to remain to
take care of her. I shall defer my journey West until everything is
settled to Clara's satisfaction, and she has in some degree recovered
her equanimity. I must also have an interview and a good understanding
with her guardian, for whom I have a message."

"Who is this guardian of whom I have heard you speak more than once,
Traverse?" asked Marah.

"Dear mother, will you believe me that I have forgotten the man's name;
it is an uncommon name that I never heard before in my life, and, in the
pressure of grief upon my mind, its exact identity escaped my memory;
but that does not signify much, as he is expected hourly; and when he
announces himself, either by card or word of mouth, I shall know, for I
shall recognize the name the moment I see it written or hear it spoken.
Let me see, it was something like Des Moines, De Vaughn, De Saule, or
something of that sort. At all events, I'm sure I sh