"Mrs. Warner will help me keep house," Mr. Carrollton said, advancing the while so many good reasons why Margaret at least should go, that she finally consented, and went down to Worcester, together with Madam Conway, George Douglas, Theo, and Henry, the latter of whom seemed quite as forlorn as did she herself, for Rose was left behind, and without her he was nothing.
Madam Conway had been very gracious to him; his family were good, and when as they passed the Charlton depot thoughts of the leghorn bonnet and blue umbrella intruded themselves upon her, she half wished that Henry had broken his leg in Theo's behalf, and so saved her from bearing the name of Douglas.
The week went by, passing rapidly as all weeks will, and Margaret was again at home. Rose was there still, and just as the sun was setting she took her sister's hand, and led her out into the open air toward the resting-place of the dead, where a change had been wrought; and Margaret, leaning over the iron gate, comprehended at once the feeling which had prompted Mr. Carrollton and Rose to desire her absence for a time. The humble stone was gone, and in its place there stood a handsome monument, less imposing and less expensive than that of Mrs. Miller, it is true, but still chaste and elegant, bearing upon it simply the names of "Hester Hamilton, and her mother Hagar Warren," with the years of their death. The little grave, too, where for many years Maggie herself had been supposed to sleep, was not beneath the pine tree now; that mound was leveled down, and another had been made, just where the grass was growing rank and green beneath the shadow of the taller stone, and there side by side they lay at last together, the mother and her infant child.
"It was kind in you to do this," Margaret said, and then, with her arm round Rose's waist, she spoke of the coming time when the sun of another hemisphere would be shining down upon her, saying she should think often of that hour, that spot, and that sister, who answered: "Every year when the spring rains fall I shall come to see that the grave has been well kept, for you know that she was my mother, too," and she pointed to the name of "Hester," deep cut in the polished marble.
"Not yours, Rose, but mine," said Maggie. "My mother she was, and as such I will cherish her memory." Then, with her arm still around her sister's waist, she walked slowly back to the house.
A little later, and while Arthur Carrollton, with Maggie at his side, was talking to her of something which made the blushes burn on her still pale cheeks, Madam Conway herself walked out to witness the improvements, lingering longest at the little grave, and saying to herself, "It was very thoughtful in Arthur, very, to do what I should have done myself ere this had I not been afraid of Margaret's feelings."
Then, turning to the new monument, she admired its chaste beauty, but hardly knew whether she was pleased to have it there or not.
"It's very handsome," she said, leaving the yard, and walking backward to observe the effect. "And it adds much to the looks of the place. There is no question about that. It is perfectly proper, too, or Mr. Carrollton would never have put it here, for he knows what is right, of course," and the still doubtful lady turned away, saying as she did so, "On the whole, I think I am glad that Hester has a handsome monument, and I know I am glad that Mrs. Miller's is a little the taller of the two!"