as with beating hearts they sat listening to the slow, solemn sounds
which came echoing up the hill. There was a pause; the sexton's
dirgelike task was done, and now it only remained for him to strike
the age, and tell how many years the departed one had numbered.

"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten;" Jessie
counted it aloud, while every stroke fell like a heavy blow upon the
hearts of the young men, who a few weeks ago, knew not that such as
Maddy Clyde had ever had existence.

How long it seemed before another stroke, and Guy was beginning to
hope they'd heard the last, when again the dull, muffled sound came
floating on the air, and Dr. Holbrook's black, bearded lip half
quivered as he now counted aloud, "one, two, three, four, five."

That was all; there it stopped; and vain were all their listenings to
catch another note. Fifteen years, and only fifteen had passed over
the form now forever still.

"She was fifteen," Guy whispered, remembering distinctly to have heard
that number from Maddy herself.

"I thought they told me fourteen, but of course it's she," the doctor
rejoined. "Poor child, I would have given much to have saved her."

Jessie did not talk; only once, when she asked Guy, if it was very far
to heaven, and if he supposed Maddy had got there by this time.

"We'll go just the same," said Guy. "I will do what I can for the old
man;" and so the carriage drove on, down the hill, across the