cted by a slight female
figure, which from some quarters had approached unperceived, and now upon
the newly-made grave was bowing itself in apparent weeping. The size and
form of the girl were so much like Luce that Fanny concluded it must be
she, at the same time wondering how, with her superstitious ideas, she
ventured alone near a grave in the night time. In a moment, however, she
saw that Tiger, the watch dog, was with her, and at the same instant the
sound of a suppressed sob fell on her ear. "Poor Luce," said she, "I did
not think she loved my mother so well. I will go to her and mingle my
tears with hers."

In a short time Fanny was in the open air, and on her way to the
graveyard. As she approached her mother's grave, she said gently, "Luce,
Luce, why are you out so late?"

The person addressed partially raised her head and answered hurriedly,
"Oh, Fanny, Fanny, do not be frightened and leave me; I am not dead, and
never was buried in that grave, as you suppose, but I am here tonight a
living, repentant woman," and throwing back her bonnet, the thin, white
face of Julia Middleton was in the bright moonlight perfectly
distinguishable to Fanny, who at first recoiled in fear and leaned for
support against the marble pillar near which she was standing.

She, however, soon recovered her self-command and glancing at the object
on the grave, saw that she was caressing Tiger, who seemed trying various
ways to evince his joy at finding one whom he had long missed, for he had
ever been Julia's favorite. Their fiery natures accorded well! Again Julia
spoke, "Fanny, dear Fanny. In an adjoining state I heard of mother's
illness and hastened to see her, but I am too late. Now, do not think me a
phantom, for see, Tiger recognizes me and welcomes me home, and will not
you?"

An instant Fanny wavered, then with a half-fearful, half-joyful cry she
went forward, and by the grave of the mother that day lowered to the dust,
the sisters met in a long, fervent embrace.

Into the best chamber of their father's house Fanny led the weeping,
repentant girl, and gently removing her bonnet and shawl, bade her lie
down on the nicely-cushioned lounge, while she went for her father. As she
was leaving the room Julia arose and laid her small, bony hand on Fanny's
shoulder. It had rested there before, for in the graveyard, with their
buried mother between them, Julia's arms had encircled her sister's neck;
but the first excitement was over,