bleed afresh.

Great troubles seem coming upon them; and now that _they have buried
their dead out of their sight_, and when time shall have begun to pour
his balm into their present smarting wounds, I doubt not that they will
look those troubles in the face, calmly and with fortitude, not
forgetful of the last words of her for whom they now mourn so bitterly,
and whom, beloved and venerable being! God hath mercifully taken away
from evil days that are to come.

After much consideration, they resolved to go, on the ensuing Sunday
morning, to church, where neither Mrs. Aubrey nor Kate had been since
the illness of her mother. The little church was crowded; almost every
one present, besides wearing a saddened countenance, exhibited some
outward mark of respect, in their dress--some badge of mourning--such as
their little means admitted of. The pulpit and reading-desk were hung in
black, as also was Mr. Aubrey's pew--an object of deep interest to the
congregation, who expected to see at least _some_ member of the family
at the Hall. They were not disappointed. A little before Dr. Tatham took
his place in the reading-desk, the well-known sound of the
family-carriage wheels was heard as it drew up before the gate; and
presently Mr. Aubrey appeared at the church door, with his wife and
sister on either arm; all of them, of course, in the deepest
mourning--Mrs. and Miss Aubrey's countenances concealed beneath their
long crape veils. For some time after taking their seats, they seemed
oppressed with emotion, evidently weeping. Mr. Aubrey, however,
exhibited great composure, though his countenance bore traces of the
suffering he had undergone. Mrs. Aubrey seldom rose from her seat; but
Kate stood up, from time to time, with the rest of the congregation; her
white handkerchief, however, might have been seen frequently raised to
her eyes, beneath her black veil. As the service went on, she seemed to
have struggled with some success against her feelings. To relieve
herself for a moment from its oppressive closeness, she gently drew
aside her veil; and thus, for a few minutes, exhibited a countenance
which, though pale and agitated, was inexpressibly beautiful. She could
not, however, long bear to face a congregation, every one of whom she
felt to be looking on her, and those beside her, with affectionate
sympathy; and rather quickly drew down her veil, without again removing
it. There was one person present, on whom the brief glim