around her throat, she went out, with a bundle in her hand, and walked
with a brisk pace down the street. She soon approached a gothic
church--a church of the Liguorian Missions, and at the distance of half
a square, heard the solemn and heavenly appeals of the organ, rolling
in soft aerial billows past her. She quickened her steps, and pushing
gently against the massive door, went in. A solemn mass was being
offered, and a requiem chanted, for the repose of the soul of a member
of the arch-confraternity of the Immaculate Heart of MARY. "I thank
thee, dear Jesus, for giving me this opportunity to adore thee,"
whispered May, kneeling in the crowd, "for all thy tender mercies, this
is the most touching and consoling to me; when thou dost come, clad in
the solemn and touching robes of propitiation, to offer THYSELF for the
eternal repose of the souls of thy departed children."

The crowd increasing, and finding it impossible to penetrate through
the masses in the aisle, she quietly edged her way along, until she
came to the steps leading to the side gallery, which she ascended, and
happily obtained a place where she had a full view of all that was
passing below. On a plain catafalque, covered with black velvet, in
front of the sanctuary and altar, rested a coffin. It was made of
pine, and painted white. A few white lilies and evergreens were
scattered among the lights which burned around it; and May knew that
some young virgin had gone to her espousals in the kingdom of the LAMB.
Half of the coffin-lid was turned back, and as she looked more
attentively on the marble features, turned to strange and marvellous
beauty by the great mystery--death--she recognized them. They belonged
to a poor crippled girl, who had suffered from her childhood with an
incurable disease, and who had been almost dependent on the alms of the
faithful for her daily support.