grave. Harry and Mary did indeed lock their hands
together tightly, and the shoulders of the former shook as he stood,
bowing down his head, but the others were still and quiet, in part from
awe and bewilderment, but partly, too, from a sense that it was against
her whole nature that there should be clamorous mourning for her. The
calm still day seemed to tell them the same, the sun beaming softly on
the gray arches and fresh grass, the sky clear and blue, and the trees
that showed over the walls bright with autumn colouring, all suitable to
the serenity of a life unclouded to its last moment. Some of them felt
as if it were better to be there than in their saddened desolate home.

But home they must go, and, before going upstairs, as Flora and
Etheldred stood a moment or two with Norman, Ethel said in a tone of
resolution, and of some cheerfulness, "Well, we have to begin afresh."

"Yes," said Flora, "it is a great responsibility. I do trust we may be
enabled to do as we ought."

"And now Margaret is getting better, she will be our stay," said Ethel.

"I must go to her," and Flora went upstairs.

"I wish I could be as useful as Flora," said Ethel; but I mean to try,
and if I can but keep out of mischief, it will be something.

"There is an object for all one does, in trying to be a comfort to
papa."

"That's no use," said Norman, listlessly. "We never can."

"Oh, but, Norman, he won't be always as he is now--I am sure he cares
for us enough to be pleased, if we do right and get on."

"We used to be so happy!" said Norman.

Ethel hesitated a little, and presently answered, "I don't think it can
be right to lament for our own sakes so much, is it?"

"I don't want to do so," said Norman, in the same dejected way.

"I suppose we ought not to feel it either." Norman only shook his head.
"We ought to think of her gain. You can't? Well, I am glad, for no more
can I. I can't think of her liking for papa and baby and all of us to
be left to ourselves. But that's not right of me, and of course it all
comes right where she is; so I always put that out of my head, and think
what is to come next in doing, and pleasing papa, and learning."

"That's grown horrid," said Norman. "There's no pleasure in getting on,
nor in anything."

"Don't you care for papa and all of us being glad, Norman?" As Norman
could not just then say that he did, he would not answer.

"I wish--" said Ethel, disappointed, but cheering up the next