d which leads from Calvary to paradise. For herself asking
only with a sublime submission--

"Nearer, my God, to Thee;
E'en though it be a cross
That raiseth me!"

CHAPTER XIV.

SORROW BRINGS US ALL HOME.

"Look in my face. My name is Might-have-been:
I am also called No-more, Too-late, Farewell."

"Was _that_ the landmark?

. . . . . . . . . .

"But lo! the path is missed; I must go back
And thirst to drink when next I reach the spring
Which once I stained ...
Yet though no light be left, nor bird now sing
As here I turn, I'll thank God, hastening,
That the same goal is still on the same track."
--ROSETTI.

Roland Tresham was buried beside his son, and the friends and the
places that had known him knew him no more. There were only strangers
to lay him in the grave. His wife was too worn out with watching and
grief to leave her bed; his sister was far away. Mr. Lanhearne and two
or three gentlemen whose acquaintance Roland had made at the club of
which Mr. Lanhearne was a member paid the last pitiful rites, and then
left him alone for ever.

Ada sat with the sorrowful widow. Her innocent heart was greatly
troubled lest her interest in Roland, though known only to herself,
had been an unintentional wrong. In every possible way she strove to
atone for Roland's happiness in her home and her own happiness in
Roland's presence. When she mentally contrasted these conditions with
the miserable conditions of the deserted wife and dying child, she
felt as if it would be impossible to balance the unkind and unmerited
difference. That she was not specially drawn to Denasia only forced
from her a more generous concern for the unhappy woman. And when death
or sorrow tears from life the mask of daily custom, then, without
regard to the accidents of birth, we behold ourselves, all alike sad
seekers among the shadows after light and peace.

And undoubtedly sympathy is like mercy; it blesses those who give it
as well as those who receive. As Ada and Denas talked of the great
mysteries of life and death, their souls felt the thrill of
comradeship. Denas was usually reticent about her own life, yet she
opened her heart to Ada, and as the two women sat together the day
after the funeral, the poor widow spent many hours in excusing the
dead and in blaming herself.

She spoke honestly of her vanity, of her desire to get the better of
Elizab