48 BE TRUE.

narrow window she could see the
white stone that stood like an angel
sentinel by her mother’s grave. Just
beyond was the parsonage, where
another heart beat for her; a heart
hardly less warm than a mother’s,
and not yet cold in death. Beside
the window was Laura’s little table,
and the hymn-book in which was
written her mother’s name, and,
above all, her Bible, that precious
Bible which tells us that Jesus is the
resurrection and the life, and that he
that believeth in him, though he
were dead, yet shall he live.

With these pleasant companions,
and her work-box, Laura would sit
for hours. It is true that her heart
yearned for human love, as all affec-
tionate hearts do; and much she
wondered why, with all her kind de-