if that were their resting-place--on the
side of a low hill, without tree or shrub to beautify it, or even the
presence of an old church to seem to sanctify the spot. There was some
long grass in it, though, clambering up as if it sought to bury the
gravestones in their turn. And that long grass was a blessing. Better
still, there was a sky overhead, in which men cannot set up any
gravestones. But if any graveyard be the type of the rest expected by
those left behind, it is no wonder they shrink from joining those that
are away.

CHAPTER II.

When the last man had disappeared, the women, like those of an eastern
harem, began to come out. The first that entered the deserted room was
a hard-featured, reproachful-looking woman, the sister of the departed.
She instantly began to put the place in order, as if she expected her
turn to come on the morrow. In a few moments more a servant appeared,
and began to assist her. The girl had been crying, and the tears would
still come, in spite of her efforts to repress them. In the vain
attempt to dry her eyes with the corner of her apron, she nearly
dropped one of the chairs, which she was simultaneously dusting and
restoring to its usual place. Her mistress turned upon her with a kind
of cold fierceness.

"Is that hoo ye shaw yer regaird to the deid, by brackin' the cheirs he
left ahin' him? Lat sit, an' gang an' luik for that puir, doited thing,
Annie. Gin it had only been the Almichty's will to hae ta'en her, an'
left him, honest man!"

"Dinna daur to say a word again' the bairn, mem. The deid'll hear ye,
an' no lie still."

"Supperstitious quean! Gang an' do as I tell ye this minute. What
business hae ye to gang greetin aboot the hoose? He was no drap's bluid
o' yours!"

To this the girl made no reply, but left the room in quest of Annie.
When she reached the door, she stood for a moment on the threshold,
and, putting her hand over her eyes, shouted "_Annie_!" But, apparently
startled at the sound of her own voice where the unhearing dead had so
lately passed, she let the end of the call die away in a quaver, and,
without repeating it, set off to find the missing child by the use of
her eyes alone. First she went into the barn, and then through the barn
into the stack-yard, and then round the ricks one after another, and
then into the corn-loft; but all without avail. At length, as she was
beginning to feel rather alarmed about the child, she arrived, in the