"Truly do I," replied the lady; "and I would not be alone with him for
the world. I wonder he is not afraid to be alone with himself."

"Men sometimes are so," said her husband.

The afternoon service was attended with similar circumstances. At its
conclusion the bell tolled for the funeral of a young lady. The
relatives and friends were assembled in the house and the more distant
acquaintances stood about the door, speaking of the good qualities of
the deceased, when their talk was interrupted by the appearance of Mr.
Hooper, still covered with his black veil. It was now an appropriate
emblem. The clergyman stepped into the room where the corpse was laid,
and bent over the coffin to take a last farewell of his deceased
parishioner. As he stooped the veil hung straight down from his
forehead, so that, if her eye-lids had not been closed for ever, the
dead maiden might have seen his face. Could Mr. Hooper be fearful of
her glance, that he so hastily caught back the black veil? A person
who watched the interview between the dead and living scrupled not to
affirm that at the instant when the clergyman's features were
disclosed the corpse had slightly shuddered, rustling the shroud and
muslin cap, though the countenance retained the composure of death. A
superstitious old woman was the only witness of this prodigy.

From the coffin Mr. Hooper passed into the chamber of the mourners,
and thence to the head of the staircase, to make the funeral prayer.
It was a tender and heart-dissolving prayer, full of sorrow, yet so
imbued with celestial hopes that the music of a heavenly harp swept by
the fingers of the dead seemed faintly to be heard among the saddest
accents of the minister. The people trembled, though they but darkly