edpost, seemingly colder,
paler, and more lifeless than the dead body before him.

At length the tempest of Hannah's grief raged itself into temporary
rest. She arose, composed the form of her sister, and turned and laid
her hand upon the shoulder of Herman, saying calmly:

"It is all over. Go, young gentleman, and wrestle with your sorrow and
your remorse, as you may. Such wrestlings will be the only punishment
your rashness will receive in this world! Be free of dread from me. She
left you her forgiveness as a legacy, and you are sacred from my
pursuit. Go, and leave me with my dead."

Herman dropped upon his knees beside the bed of death, took the cold
hand of Nora between his own, and bowed his head upon it for a little
while in penitential homage, and then arose and silently left the hut.

After he had gone, Hannah remained for a few minutes standing where he
had left her, gazing in silent anguish upon the dark eyes of Nora, now
glazed in death, and then, with reverential tenderness, she pressed down
the white lids, closing them until the light of the resurrection morning
should open them again.

While engaged in this holy duty, Hannah was interrupted by the
re-entrance of Herman.

He came in tottering, as if under the influence of intoxication; but we
all know that excessive sorrow takes away the strength and senses as
surely as intoxication does. There is such a state as being drunken with
grief when we have drained the bitter cup dry!

"Hannah," he faltered, "there are some things which should be remembered
even in this awful hour."

The sorrowing woman, her fingers still softly pressing down her sister's
eyelids, looked up in mute inquiry.

"Your necessities and--Nora's child must be provided for. Will you give
me some writing materials?" And the speaker dropped, as if totally
prostrated, into a chair by the table.

With some difficulty Hannah sought and found an old inkstand, a stumpy
pen, and a scrap of paper. It was the best she could do. Stationery was
scarce in the poor hut. She laid them on the table before Herman. And
with a trembling hand he wrote out a check upon the local bank and put
it in her hand, saying:

"This sum will provide for the boy, and set you and Gray up in some
little business. You had better marry and go to the West, taking the
child with you. Be a mother to the orphan, Hannah, for he will never
know another parent. And now shake hands and say good-by, for we shall
never