Sacred to the Memory
of
HAGAR WISEMAN.
And underneath were the words:
"Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord."
Tears fell fast from the eyes of Celeste, as she knelt by that lonely grave; but they were not all tears of sorrow.
"And this is Venice! Bless me! what a queer-looking old place!" exclaimed Gipsy, lying back amid the cushions of a gondola. "How in the world do they manage to make everything look so funny? This gondola, or whatever they call it, is quite a comfortable place to go to sleep in. I'll bring one of them home to sail on the bay—I will, as sure as shooting. Maybe it won't astonish the natives, slightly. Well this is a nice climate, and no mistake. I don't think I'd have any objection to pitching my tent here, myself. What's this the poet says—
"If woman can make the worst wilderness dear,
Think, think what a heaven she would make of this 'ere!"
"Oh, what a shame! to parody the 'Light of the Harem,'" said Celeste, laughing. "But here we are, on land."
It was the day after their arrival in Venice; and, now, under the guidance of Louis, they were going, in a body, to visit Minnette.
They reached the convent, and were admitted by the old portress—who, as if it were a matter of course, ushered them into the chapel and left them.