the curls of her hair, which fell over her neck and shoulders, and
covered the purple spots, which the disease had left upon her flesh.
"She is too beautiful to die, and the only child too," thought more
than one, as they looked first at the sleeping clay and then at the
stricken mother, who, draped in deepest black, sobbed convulsively and
leaned for support upon the arm of the sofa. What now to her were
wealth and station? What did she care for the elegance which had so
often excited the envy of her neighbors? That little coffin, which had
cost so many dollars and caused so much remark, contained what to her
was far dearer than all. And yet she was not one half so desolate as
was the orphan Mary, who in Mrs. Bender's kitchen sat weeping over her
sister Alice, and striving to form words of prayer which should reach
the God of the fatherless.

But few of the villagers thought of her this afternoon. Their
sympathies were all with Mrs. Campbell; and when at the close of the
services she approached to take a last look of her darling, they
closed around her with exclamations of grief and tears of pity, though
even then some did not fail to note and afterwards comment upon the
great length of her costly veil, and the width of its hem! It was a
long procession which followed Ella Campbell to the grave, and with
bowed heads and hats uplifted, the spectators stood by while the
coffin was lowered to the earth; and then, as the Campbell carriage
drove slowly away, they dispersed to their homes, speaking, it may be,
more tenderly to their own little ones, and shuddering to think how
easily it might have been themselves who were bereaved.

Dark and dreary was the house to which Mrs. Campbell returned. On the
stairs there was no patter of childish feet. In the halls there was no
sound of a merry voice, and on her bosom rested no little golden head,