When earth has nothing to bestow,
And every flower is dead below,
I look to Thee alone."
CHAPTER XIII.
AGAIN A WANDERER.
The months sped on, and now the anniversary of her father's birthday arrived. Until then it had always been to Mary a day of great joy, but this time, when the day dawned, she was bathed in tears. Previously she had had the pleasure and excitement of preparing something which she knew would please her father, but now, alas, this delightful occupation was rendered useless!
The country people round about their home used to beg flowers from her for the purpose of decorating the graves of their friends. It had always been a pleasure to Mary to give her flowers for this purpose, and she now determined to decorate her father's tomb in the same manner. Taking from a cupboard the beautiful basket which had been the first cause of all her unhappiness, she filled it with choice flowers of all colours, artistically interspersed with fresh green leaves, and carried it to Erlenbrunn before the hour of divine service, and laid it on her father's tomb, watering it at the same time with tears that could not be repressed.
"Oh, best and dearest of fathers," said she, "you have strewed with flowers the path of life for me. Let me at least ornament your grave with them."
Mary left the basket on the grave, and went back to the misery of Pine Farm. She had no fear that any one would dare to steal either the basket or the flowers. Many of the country people who saw her offering were moved to tears, and, blessing the old gardener's pious daughter, they prayed for her prosperity.