"So you imagine, so you think,--you must have been too young to judge of these things.

She died--" "I saw her die," again she interrupted, with a musing tenderness in her voice.

"She smiled and kissed me,--then she laid her thin, white hand on this crucifix, and, closing her eyes, she went to sleep.

They told me it was death, since then I have known that death is beautiful!" Mr.Dyceworthy coughed,--a little cough of quiet incredulity.

He was not fond of sentiment in any form, and the girl's dreamily pensive manner annoyed him.