delaying twenty-four hours longer than might have been granted in most
cases; but Mr. Hardinge, who gave all the directions, had named Thursday
noon as the hour for the interment. We had few relatives to expect; most
of those who would have been likely to attend, had circumstances admitted
of it, living in distant places that rendered it inconvenient, and indeed
scarcely possible.

I passed most of the intervening time in my study, reading and indulging
in such contemplations as naturally suggest themselves to the mourner.
Lucy, dear girl, had written me two or three short notes, asking my wishes
on various points; among other things, when I wished to pay a last visit
to the body. My answer to this question brought her to my room, with some
little surprise of manner; for she had been so much with Grace, living and
dead, as to think it strange one who had loved her so well while living
should not desire to take a final look at the beautiful remains. I
explained my feelings on this head, and Lucy seemed struck with them.

"I am not sure you will not have decided wisely, Miles," she said--"the
picture being one too precious to destroy. You will be gratified in
knowing, however, that Grace resembles an angel quite as much in death as
she did in life; all who have seen her being struck with the air of
peaceful tranquillity her features now present."

"Bless you--bless you, Lucy--this is all-sufficient. I did wish for some
such assurance, and am now content."

"Several of your family are in the house, Miles, in readiness to attend
the funeral; a stranger has just arrived who seems to have some such
desire, too, though his face is unknown to all at the place. He has asked
to see you with an earnestness that my father scarce knows how to refuse."