slowly, and with minute precision, arranged them in a cross above her
breast. At last, when there was no blossom more to add or alter, I sat
down again in my solitude where I sat with her so lately, with the same
leaves fluttering on the same trees, the same grass waving on the same
graves, and her beneath instead of upon it.

At first I could not think,--I could only cry. For now at length I had
to cry; and cry I did, in a tornado and deluge of grief that by degrees
swept and washed away the accumulated vapors from my mind, and brought
it to a clearer, healthier calm. I believe God in His mercy has
appointed that those who are capable of the strongest, shall not in
general be capable of the _longest_ anguish. At least, I am sure that it
is so, not only with myself, but with one better and dearer than myself;
so that the experience of life has taught me to see in the sharpest of
pangs the happiest augury of their brevity.

Thus it could not have been very long before I was able to raise my
head, and wipe my eyes, and look once more upon my two dear graves. The
setting sun glowed over them. They looked soft and bright. From one of
them the echo of an angel's voice seemed still to say, "Here, by mamma,
is where I _like_ to lie"; from both in unison I heard, "It is good and
brave to look things in the face and on all sides; but then among the
sides, never forget the bright side, little Katy."

Could I refuse? I looked for the bright side. It was not far to seek. In
the first place, the worst was over. Never again could I lose what I had
lost, nor--so at least I thought then--could I feel what I had felt.
Secondly, my sorrow was only mine, and no one's else. Those whom I loved
were happy, every one of them;--mamma and Fanny,--I could not doubt
it,--happier far than I ever could have made them, even if I had always