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HOW Mrs. Barrè passed the three days in the
house with her dead husband's body, need not be
told, if we could tell it. The burying-day came,
and it was bright,—there was no cloud. People gathered
from every quarter. All the Church-clergy of the Bay
were there, and the Wesleyan ministers:—there are no
others but Roman Catholics. When the procession began
to form from the church, a murmur went through the
multitude; there stood one figure alone outside of the
array. All who were near drew back and left an open
space for him; but he gave no heed to it. This was Father
Terence.

He followed the procession, and, staying without the
inclosure, stood devoutly during the burial of the dead.
When the service was all done, and the crowd were
slowly moving away, he went down the hill alone and
departed.

The Minister was for sometime in the churchyard, and
afterwards a little while in the church; and when at
length he went sadly homeward, as he passed Mrs.
Barrè's house, he turned aside and entered.

“She's at my aunt's,” said Miss Dare; and then
silently put into the Minister's hand a written paper. It

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was entitled, “Copy of a hymn in Mr. De Brie's writing,
found on his person, and dated on the night before his
last journey.” It read thus:—

Mr. Wellon held the paper long;—that was the last
utterance, to which men were privy, of the heart that was
now dead, unless these words, in his wife's prayer-book
which he had with him, were written later: “I have
found rest!”

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“Yes!” said the Minister. Then, thoughtfully, to
himself, “Was this the `Fate,' then, that he spoke of?—
And how is she?” he asked of Miss Dare.

“Bent down, at first; but she'll stand up again bravely
by-and-by.”

“This is no tragedy to her,” said the Minister.

“No; it's a triumph, rather,” Miss Dare answered.