That prayer was as yet unsaid, and before she was free to seek safety--if safety there were for her in the wide world--she must take her way down the lonely path.

She walked, leading the horse, which followed her with muffled tread and arched neck as if he felt he were doing homage to the dead.

Slowly, silently, she moved along into the river of moonlight and dreariness; for the moonlight here seemed cold, like the graves it shone upon, and the girl, as she walked with bowed head, almost fancied she saw strange misty forms flit past her in the night.
As they came in sight of the graves, something dark and wild with plumy tail slunk away into the shadows, and seemed a part of the place.

The girl stopped a moment to gain courage in full sight of the graves, and the horse snorted, and stopped too, with his ears a-quiver, and a half-fright in his eyes.
She patted his neck and soothed him incoherently, as she buried her face in his mane for a moment, and let the first tears that had dimmed her eyes since the blow had fallen come smarting their way out.

Then, leaving the horse to stand curiously watching her, she went down and stood at the head of the new-heaped mound.