ink she will be at the funeral?' Michael asked more than once;
but no one was able to answer this question.

But when the day came she was there, closely veiled, so that no one
could see her face, and as she walked to the grave, between Kester and
Mollie, her step seemed as firm as ever. Michael had written to Matthew
O'Brien the particulars of his son's death, and had told him that a
place would be reserved for him among the mourners; but to this there
was no reply.

Just as the service began in the chapel, however, a tall man with a gray
moustache slipped into the seat behind Kester. When the sad procession
filed out into the cemetery, Audrey and Michael drew back to let him
pass, but he made signs for them to precede him. But at the end, as they
all crowded round the open grave to take their last look at the
flower-decked coffin, Mat O'Brien stood for a moment by his wife's side.
Audrey said afterwards that she was sure Mrs. Blake saw him; she started
slightly, but took no further notice. The tears were streaming down
Mat's face, and Mollie, with girlish sympathy, had slipped her hand
through his arm; but the mother stood in stony impassiveness beside
them, until Kester whispered something to her and led her away. The rest
of the mourners had dispersed, but Audrey stood there still, looking
thoughtfully down into the grave. Dr. Ross and his wife had followed the
others, but Michael had kept his place beside Audrey.

'I think they are waiting for us, dear,' he said at last, as though to
rouse her.

Then she turned her face to him.

'I like being here,' she replied simply; 'and yet it is not pain to
leave him lying there. Michael, I feel like Christian. Do you remember
how his burden rolled off into an open grave? Somehow, mine has rolled
off, too.'

'You mean that you are happy about him.'

'Yes. It is so sweet to think that he will never suffer any more. Oh,
Michael, it has been such a burden! I never seemed to have a moment's
peace or comfort. Every night I used to think, "How has he passed
to-day? Has it been very bad with him?" And sometimes the thought of all
he was bearing seemed to weigh me to the earth.'

'And you never spoke of this to anyone--you bore all this by yourself?'

'It was no use to speak. No one could help me. It was his pain, not
mine. Now it will be different. He is safe and happy, and as for me, I
must try to live now for other people.'

And then, with a smile that touched him to th