listen . then another spasm of pain crossed her features, and she lay inanimate in her son's and Anne Christian's earthly life was over the heavenly one begun. CHAPTER XV. THE FUNERAL. A N hour or more passed, and still Hugh held his mother. He would not stir; no entreaties of Margot prevailed upon him to give up the loved burden in his arms; he could not believe his mother was no more,not until Margot bade him feel how cold already was that loved face; and then the touch sent a thrill of agony through his heart. Resigning his place to Margot, his grief burst out, and he rushed from the room. We will not linger over it . . . Margot found him utterly exhausted on one of the chairs in the old hall, and with Topaze's help, they bore him upstairs; and the latter soon prepared him for bed. Once laid softly down, he sank into an exhausted slumber; and "death and his brother sleep" re-united apparently for a time the sweet mother and loving son. Margot, with Hugh's help, punctually carried out all Anne Christian's injunctions—the latter obtaining permission from the Admiralty to remain at Hooknorton until the funeral was over. There was happily much to be done and settled, regarding both the loved old Manor House, which it wrung Hugh's heart to surrender, and the estate; so that little time remained for unavailing regrets; and it made the resignation of all he loved at Hooknorton easier, and brought him courage in the active measures necessary to bear the inevitable. The intervening weary days between the death scene and the last service in its crowning sadness, Hugh lived with his kind old friend, Mr. Dashwood, at the Rectory, to whom he was as a son; and who assisted and supported him in all by his warm sympathy and advice. The last day came at length, and Hugh "Bent him o'er the dead, Before Decay's effacing fingers Had swept the lines where beauty lingers, And marked the mild angelic air, The rapture of repose that's there, The fixed yet tender traits that streak No words of ours could better express the calm, soft loveliness, even in her graveclothes, of the sweet mother he had loved so deeply; but for the cold hue of death, the awful stillness, he could have fancied she but slept. Alas! on earth no expression, no feeling, will animate those sweet features again; the soul has left its fair, frail tenement for ever! Tenderly had Margot decked her mistress for the last narrow bed: the close frilled cap, the soft white robe, with black ribbons round neck and wrists; the lovely hands crossed on her breast pressed the small silver cross upon her heart. Roses, rosemary, and bright crimson leaves filled up the spaces round the coffin. We sympathise with those who pay all love and honour to the fair covering, that veils from our closer sight the pure holy soul recalled to its heavenly home. Lay it gently in the earth, as a favourite garment in the wardrobe of the faithful—the churchyard! Ere Hugh left the room, he once again renewed the vow of his childhood in the presence of that inanimate form, to bear himself bravely in the battle of life; steadily to strive to "serve God and his king." Then he pressed his lips a last, last time upon that marble cheek, and hastily left the room and the house, that he might not |