girls, in th▓eir snowy robes, gleaming stra▓ngely and fitfully through the darkening shadow●s of the winding paths; their sweet,● young voices sounding almost l▓ik
e spirit music, as they fade▓d, fainter and more faint in the far dista●nce.
Still the young clergyman rem●ained, pale, rigid, moveless, gazin▓g on the newly-tur
ned earth, till he ▓fancied he was alone with the homes o▓f the dead; and then, with a low, smoth●ered groan of anguish, he flung h●imself on the damp grave, claspi
ng it with his▓ outstretched arms, pressing his cold ●lips upon it, his whole frame qu●ivering with the effort to restrai▓n his bursting sobs.The old man hurried fo
rw▓ards and laid his trembling hand on his a●rm, the tears streaming down hi▓s furrowed face the while, and with● faltering accents conjured him to take comfort,▓
for his poor mother’s sake.
“I ●will, I will,” was the agonized reply.“Leave ●me, leave me to my God.He will br▓ing peace.I see but the cold grave now; but fa
i▓th will come again.She is free, rejoicing.S▓he will
know now how much, how f▓aithfully—but leave me, leave
me now.” ▓And the old man turned sorrowingly ●away;