absolutely as a formulary, and imagine the heart could not fully accompany
words that had been previously prescribed?"

No sooner had Lucy's solemn tones ceased than I passed through the crowd
of weeping and still kneeling blacks, and entered my sister's room. Grace
was reclining in an easy chair; her eyes closed, her hands clasped
together, but lying on her knees, and her whole attitude and air
proclaiming a momentary but total abstraction of the spirit. I do not
think she heard my footstep at all, and I stood at her side an instant,
uncertain whether to let her know of my presence, or not. At this instant
I caught the eye of Lucy, who seemed intent on the wish to speak to me.
Grace had three or four small rooms that communicated with each other, in
her part of the dwelling; and into one of these, which served as a sort of
_boudoir_, though the name was then unknown in America, I followed the
dear girl, whose speaking but sad look had bidden me do so.

"Is my father near at hand?" Lucy asked, with an interest I did not
understand, since she must have known he intended to remain at his own
residence, in readiness for the afternoon service.

"He is not. You forget he has to attend to evening prayers."

"I have sent for him--Miles," taking one of my hands in both her own, with
the tenderness a mother would manifest to a very dear child, "_dear_
Miles, you must summon all your fortitude."

"Is my sister worse?" I demanded, huskily; for, prepared as I was for the
result, I was not expecting it by any means so soon.

"I cannot call it worse, Miles, to be about to be called away to God in