He drew long, deep breaths. He was like a great ship trying to right itself in a storm. At last he said, in broken tones:
"Grace, you are right. It's not law or force. It's either God, who in some way that I can't understand, will bring good out of all this evil, or else it's all devilish, fiendish. If after this night you can be resigned, patient, hopeful, your faith shall be mine."
The shadows, affrighted, shrank further away than ever before. "I take you at your word," she replied, as she drew him gently away. "Come, let us go and comfort papa."
One after another stole out after them until Mrs. Mayburn was alone with the dead. Long and motionless she stood, with her eyes fixed on the quiet, lovely face.
"Hilda," at last she moaned, "little Hilda, shall poor old grandma ever see our baby again?"
At that moment the sun rose high enough to send a ray through the lattice, and it lighted the baby's face with what seemed a smile of unearthly sweetness.
A few moments later Aunt Sheba found the aged woman with her head upon little Hilda's bosom, and there she received a faith that brought peace.
A few evenings later there was a grassy mound, covered with roses, under the apple-tree by the rustic seat; and at the head of the little grave there was placed a block of marble bearing the simple inscription:
"Here sleeps our Baby Hilda."
* * * * * * *