But in all that crowd there was only one heart which felt an emotion of grief, or had a single tear to drop on his coffin-lid.  After a long life of toil, and solitude, and unlovingness, only one.  May felt this while she wept, and wished she had been more patient and persevering in her love while he lived; but such regrets were useless now, except to kindle charity.  She could do nothing which would be available to make up the deficiencies of the past, but incessantly beseech Jesus Christ, through which his bitter passion and death, and the Immaculate Mother, by the union she bore, body and soul, in the unspeakable agonies of the CROSS, to grant him a speedy release from suffering probation, to eternal refreshment, and light, and peace.

It was late when the funeral cortege returned to the city, and Mr. Fielding, perceiving that May was much overcome, and looked ill, declined going in, or attending to business that evening.

“I will be here at ten o’clock to-morrow morning.  I know that my deceased client’s affairs are all in such order, that there will be no delay in carrying out his wishes.”

“Just as you think best, Mr. Fielding,” replied May, wearily.

“What say you, Miss Stillinghast?” he said, addressing Helen.

“To-morrow will be quite time enough, sir,” replied Helen, in a low tone.

Time enough, indeed!  Well might she feel a sense of relief at its being deferred, when she knew that from the moment it was discovered that the will was missing, the temptations which had led her so deeply into sin would become demons of vengeance to torture and disturb her.  As she went up with a heavy step to her room, an angel whisper suggested that there was time enough yet to undo the wrong she had committed.  It startled and agitated her.  “Can I bear these chains?” was the question.  Weak, but never hardened in wickedness, she trembled, and was afraid of the penalties of her offence; and when she looked up, and saw by the flickering candlelight the image of the CRUCIFIED, and the sorrowful face of his Virgin Mother, both bending on her looks of tenderness and woe, which said, as plain as looks could say, “Child of my passion! soul, ransomed by my death! why wound me so deeply?” With a low cry, she threw herself on her pillow.  “I shall never know peace again,” her heart whispered; “I already feel the anguish of guilt; I begin to taste on earth the pangs of ever-lasting woe.  This sin, with the human shame it will bring, will be an abyss between me and the Sacraments of the Church.  Where shall I turn for peace?  I can never bear this burden; it will madden me.  I feel even now so guilty that I dare not lift my eyes to Walter’s, for whose sake I do it.  I feel an awe and dread steal over me when May comes near me as if she had Ithuriel’s spear with which to touch me.  I will do it,” she said, with sudden resolution, and got up, and opened her trunk with the almost determined