dreariness; for the moonlight here seemed cold, like the graves it shone
upon, and the girl, as she walked with bowed head, almost fancied she saw
strange misty forms flit past her in the night.

As they came in sight of the graves, something dark and wild with plumy
tail slunk away into the shadows, and seemed a part of the place. The girl
stopped a moment to gain courage in full sight of the graves, and the
horse snorted, and stopped too, with his ears a-quiver, and a half-fright
in his eyes.

She patted his neck and soothed him incoherently, as she buried her face
in his mane for a moment, and let the first tears that had dimmed her eyes
since the blow had fallen come smarting their way out. Then, leaving the
horse to stand curiously watching her, she went down and stood at the head
of the new-heaped mound. She tried to kneel, but a shudder passed through
her. It was as if she were descending into the place of the dead herself;
so she stood up and raised her eyes to the wide white night and the moon
riding so high and far away.

"Our Father," she said in a voice that sounded miles away to herself. Was
there any Father, and could He hear her? And did He care? "Which art in
heaven--" but heaven was so far away and looked so cruelly serene to her
in her desolateness and danger! "hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come--"
whatever that might mean. "Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven."
It was a long prayer to pray, alone with the pale moon-rain and the
graves, and a distant wolf, but it was her mother's wish. Her will being
done here over the dead--was that anything like the will of the Father
being done in heaven? Her untrained thoughts hovered on the verge of
great questions, and then slipped back into her pathetic self and its
fear, while her tongue hurried on through the words of the prayer.