"My dear Miss Mordaunt, this is indeed a wild romance to spin out of
so slender a thread. But even if true, there is no reason to think
that a life is forgotten, though a tomb be neglected."

"Perhaps not," said Lily, thoughtfully. "But when I am dead, if I can
look down, I think it would please me to see my grave not neglected by
those who had loved me once."

She moved from him as she said this, and went to a little mound that
seemed not long since raised; there was a simple cross at the head and
a narrow border of flowers round it. Lily knelt beside the flowers
and pulled out a stray weed. Then she rose, and said to Kenelm, who
had followed, and now stood beside her,--

"She was the little grandchild of poor old Mrs. Hales. I could not
cure her, though I tried hard: she was so fond of me, and died in my
arms. No, let me not say 'died,'--surely there is no such thing as
dying. 'Tis but a change of life,--


'Less than the void between two waves of air,
The space between existence and a soul.'"


"Whose lines are those?" asked Kenelm.

"I don't know; I learnt them from Lion. Don't you believe them to be
true?"

"Yes. But the truth does not render the thought of quitting this