door, he spoke to her there.

"You must take the corpse out of her arms. She will not awake. That
draught will make her sleep for many hours. I will call before noon
again. It is now daylight. Good-by."

Susan shut him out; and then, gently extricating the dead child from its
mother's arms, she could not resist making her own quiet moan over her
darling. She tried to learn off its little placid face, dumb and pale
before her.

Not all the scalding tears of care
Shall wash away that vision fair;
Not all the thousand thoughts that rise,
Not all the sights that dim her eyes,
Shall e'er usurp the place
Of that little angel-face.

And then she remembered what remained to be done. She saw that all was
right in the house; her father was still dead asleep on the settle, in
spite of all the noise of the night. She went out through the quiet
streets, deserted still, although it was broad daylight, and to where the
Leighs lived. Mrs. Leigh, who kept her country hours, was opening her
window-shutters. Susan took her by the arm, and, without speaking, went
into the house-place. There she knelt down before the astonished Mrs.
Leigh, and cried as she had never done before; but the miserable night
had overpowered her, and she who had gone through so much calmly, now
that the pressure seemed removed could not find the power to speak.

"My poor dear! What has made thy heart so sore as to come and cry a-this-