ing blood and kin, and of looking around us for support."

"Alone you are not, Miles, and never can be while I and my dear father
live. We are certainly nearer to you than any that now remain among your
blood relatives! You can neither suffer nor be happy without our partaking
in the feelings."

This was not said without an effort; that much I could detect; yet it was
said firmly, and in a way that left no doubt of its entire sincerity. I
even wished there had been less of nature and more of hesitation in the
dear girl's manner while she was endeavouring to assure me of the
sympathy she felt in my happiness or unhappiness. But the waywardness of a
passion as tormenting, and yet as delightful as love, seldom leaves us
just or reasonable.

Lucy and I then talked of the approaching ceremony. Each of us was grave
and sorrowful, but neither indulged in any outward signs of grief. We knew
the last sad offices were to be performed, and had braced ourselves to the
discharge of this melancholy duty. It was not customary with the females
of purely New York families of the class of the Hardinges, to be present
at the performance of the funeral rites; but Lucy told me she intended to
be in the little church, and to share in as much of the religious offices
as were performed within the building. In a population as mixed as ours
has become, it is not easy to say what is and what is not now a national
or state usage, on such an occasion; but I knew this was going farther
than was usual for one of Lucy's habits and opinions, and I expressed a
little surprise at her determination.

"Were it at any other funeral, I would not be present, Miles," she said,
the tremour of her voice sensibly increasing; "but I cannot divest myself
of the idea that the spirit of Grace will be hovering near; that the
presence of her more than sister will be acceptable. Whatever the
Providence of God may have ordered for the dear departed, I know it will
be grateful to myself to join in the prayers of the church--besides, I am
not altogether without the womanly feeling of wishing to watch over the
form of Grace while it remains above ground. And now, Miles, brother,
friend, _Grace's_ brother, or by whatever endearing term I may address
you," added Lucy, rising, coming to my side of the table, and taking my
hand. "I have one thing to say that I alone can say, for it would never
suggest itself as necessary to my dear father."

I looked earnestly at Lucy's swe