I would rather stand," replied Stephen.

His eyes were fixed on the spot where thirty years before Mercy had stood when she said, "I can't, Stephen." Lizzy read the sonnet with tears rolling down her cheeks.
"Oh, it is beautiful,--beautiful!" she exclaimed.

"Why did she never have it printed ?" Stephen colored and hesitated.

One single thrill of pride followed by a bitter wave of pain, and he replied,-- "Because I asked her not to print it." Lizzy's heart was too full of tender grief now to have any room for wonder or resentment at this, or even to realize in that first moment that there was any thing strange in the reply.
"Indeed, it shall be put on the stone," she said.

"I am so thankful you brought it.