The coffin was lowered into the grave, and the mourners departed. " "Won't my life do as well as his?" supplicated the other. To-morrow he might be sorry; but to-day, this hour! She rose, not quickly, but with a dignity which only accentuated her beauty. She regarded the young man coldly. She flung herself back into the bare little room, cold, empty, comfortless. ‘You! Have you pen and paper?’ ‘Pen and paper now, is it?’ grumbled the old man as he shuffled down the hall. She fixed her eyes upon it and ran, keeping always as far as possible in the shadow of the hedge, gazing fearfully every now and then down along the valley for the white smoke of the train.
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