A ray of wintry sunlight stole through a
curtained window near the altar, and flickered on the silent face of
the dead virgin, as she lay an image of heavenly repose. May felt that
it was a type of the brightness which would soon crown her; and while a
flood of warm and joyful rapture flowed into her soul, she exulted in
the thought that she, too, was a member of the household of faith. It
was a profitable time to May; for death was suddenly stripped of its
thrilling horrors; its gaunt outlines were softened and brightened, and
she thought of him as a tireless and faithful guide, who led souls
beyond the dark tide, over the lonely and shadowy ways, and through the
fathomless abyss, to the very portals of eternal rest. She had almost
forgotten the object which brought her out that morning, so absorbed
was she in the contemplation of the scene she had witnessed; until on
rising to leave the church after the divine rites were over, her bundle
fell to her feet. She snatched it up, ashamed of her carelessness,
and, slipping through the crowd, emerged once more into the street.
Picking her way through snow and ice, she came to a neat fancy store,
and went in. Behind the counter stood a neat, pleasant old lady
assorting worsteds, who smiled a welcome the moment she saw who it was
who had entered.
"Ah, my dear Miss May how do you do? come near the stove and sit down.
It is not yet our busy time of day, and we can have a nice chat.
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