" "Waste not another word with him, Thames," cried Jack. \"I guess so. Men are against her. She drew up a chair and sat down, putting her palm on the damp, cold forehead. "Whose grave is this?" he inquired of a man who was standing near it. ’ She was silent for a space, and it was evident that this part of the story was still too painful to be recalled with ease. "Shall I never see that sweet face again,—never feel the pressure of those kind hands more—nor listen to that gentle voice! Ah! yes, we shall meet again in Heaven, where I shall speedily join you.
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