“I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord; and he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live; and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die!”

Cornelia had not believed; was she utterly lost?  Beulah asked herself this question, and shrank from the answer.  She did not believe; would she die as Cornelia died, without comfort?  Was there but one salvation?  When the coffin was borne out, and the procession formed, she went on mechanically, and found herself seated in a carriage with Mrs. Asbury and her two daughters.  She sank back in one corner, and the long line of carriages, extending for many squares, slowly wound through the streets.  The wind wailed and sobbed, as if in sympathy, and the rain drizzled against the window glass.  When the procession reached the cemetery, it was too wet to think of leaving the carriages, but Beulah could see the coffin borne from the hearse, and heard the subdued voice of the minister; and when the shrouded form of the only child was lowered into its final resting-place, she groaned, and hid her face in her hands.  Should they meet no more?  Hitherto Mrs. Asbury had forborne to address her, but now she passed her arm round the shuddering form, and said gently: 

“My dear Beulah, do not look so hopelessly wretched.  In the midst of life we are in death; but God has given a promise to cheer us all in sad scenes like this.  St. John was told to write, ’From henceforth, blessed are the dead who die in the Lord, for they rest from, their labors.’”

“And do you think she is lost forever because she did not believe?  Do you?  Can you?” cried Beulah vehemently.

“Beulah, she had the Bible, which promises eternal life.  If she entirely rejected it, she did so voluntarily and deliberately; but only God knows the heart—­only her Maker can judge her.  I trust that even in the last hour the mists rolled from her mind.”

Beulah knew better, but said nothing; it was enough to have witnessed that darkened soul’s last hour on earth.  As the carriage stopped at her door Mrs. Asbury said: 

“My dear Beulah, stay with me to-night.  I think I can help you to find what you are seeking so earnestly.”

Beulah shrank back, and answered: 

“No, no.  No one can help me; I must help myself.  Some other time I will come.”

The rain fell heavily as she reached her own home, and she went to her room with a heaviness of heart almost unendurable.  She sat down on the rug before the fire, and threw her arms up over a chair, as she was wont to do in childhood; and, as she remembered that the winter rain now beat pitilessly on the grave of one who had never known privation, nor aught of grief that wealth could shield her from, she moaned bitterly.  What lamp had philosophy hung in the sable chambers of the tomb?  The soul was impotent to explain its origin—­how, then, could it possibly read the riddle of final destiny?