y next day began their labour!
Who so unconscious of all associations connected with the spot, as he!
They plucked the long grass and nettles from the tombs, thinned the
poor shrubs and roots, made the turf smooth, and cleared it of the
leaves and weeds. They were yet in the ardour of their work, when the
child, raising her head from the ground over which she bent, observed
that the bachelor was sitting on the stile close by, watching them in
silence.

'A kind office,' said the little gentleman, nodding to Nell as she
curtseyed to him. 'Have you done all that, this morning?'

'It is very little, sir,' returned the child, with downcast eyes, 'to
what we mean to do.'

'Good work, good work,' said the bachelor. 'But do you only labour at
the graves of children, and young people?'

'We shall come to the others in good time, sir,' replied Nell, turning
her head aside, and speaking softly.

It was a slight incident, and might have been design or accident, or
the child's unconscious sympathy with youth. But it seemed to strike
upon her grandfather, though he had not noticed it before. He looked
in @ hurried manner at the graves, then anxiously at the child, then
pressed her to his side, and bade her stop to rest. Something he had
long forgotten, appeared to struggle faintly in his mind. It did not
pass away, as weightier things had done; but came uppermost again, and
yet again, and many times that day, and often afterwards. Once, while
they were yet at work, the child, seeing that he often turned and
looked uneasily at her, as though he were trying to resolve some
painful doubts or collect some scattered thoughts, urged him to tell
the reason. But he said it was nothing--nothing--and, laying her head
upon his arm, patted her fair cheek with his hand, and muttered that
she grew stronger every day, and would be a woman, soon.

CHAPTER 55

From that time, there sprung up in the old man's mind, a solicitude
about the child which never slept or left him. There are chords in the
human heart--strange, varying strings--which are only struck by
accident; which will remain mute and senseless to appeals the most
passionate and earnest, and respond at last to the slightest casual
touch. In the most insensible or childish minds, there is some train
of reflection which art can seldom lead, or skill assist, but which
will reveal itself, as great truths have done, by chance, and when the
discoverer has the plainest e