over again, the same words; the same vain, unanswered address to her
who was no more. "Oh, mother! mother, are you really dead! Oh,
mother, mother!"

At last she stopped, because it flashed across her mind that her
violence of grief might disturb her father. All was still below.
She looked on the face so changed, and yet so strangely like. She
bent down to kiss it. The cold unyielding flesh struck a shudder to
her heart, and hastily obeying her impulse, she grasped the candle,
and opened the door. Then she heard the sobs of her father's grief;
and quickly, quietly stealing down the steps, she knelt by him, and
kissed his hand. He took no notice at first; for his burst of grief
would not be controlled. But when her shriller sobs, her terrified
cries (which she could not repress), rose upon his ear, he checked
himself.

"Child, we must be all to one another, now SHE is gone," whispered
he.

"Oh, father, what can I do for you? Do tell me! I'll do anything."

"I know thou wilt. Thou must not fret thyself ill, that's the first
thing I ask. Thou must leave me and go to bed now, like a good girl
as thou art."

"Leave you, father! oh, don't say so."

"Ay, but thou must: thou must go to bed, and try and sleep;
thou'lt have enough to do and to bear, poor wench, tomorrow."