moonbeams, bounding in one place like a thing of life, then brawling
around sundry large stones that impeded its progress, again subsiding
into silence, and flowing onward to where a little foot-bridge, over
which they had to pass, arched its course; beyond this was the church,
and there Mabel knew they were to await the coach which was to convey
them to a village many miles from their old homes, and where Sarah
Bond had accidentally heard there was a chance of establishing a
little school. Mabel paused for a moment to look at the venerable
church standing by the highway, the clergyman's house crouching in the
grove behind. The hooting and wheeling of the old owls in the ivied
tower was a link of life. Sarah Bond passed the turn-stile that led
into the church-yard, followed by Mabel, who shuddered when she found
herself surrounded by damp grass-green graves, and beneath the shadows
of old yew-trees.

She knew not where her aunt was going, but followed her silently.
Sarah Bond led the way to a lowly grave, marked by a simple
head-stone. She knelt down by its side, and while her bosom throbbed,
she prayed earnestly, deeply, within her very soul--she prayed, now a
faded, aged woman--she prayed above the ashes, the crumbling bones of
him she had loved with a love that never changes--that is green when
the head is gray--that Mabel might never suffer as she had suffered.
Relieved by these devotional exercises, Sarah rose, and the humble
and stricken pair bade adieu to the melancholy scene, and betook
themselves to their toilsome journey. Fortunately the stage soon
overtook them, and having, with some difficulty, obtained seats, they
were in due time deposited in a village, where Sarah felt there would
be no eyes prying into their poverty, no ears to hear of it, no tongue
to tell thereof, and point them out "as the poor ladies that once were
rich." This was a great relief, though it came of pride, and she knew