dead as she is now. She did not speak a word—she fell upon his neck, and she clasped her arms round him; they thought to cut them off, it was so hard to get them loose;—and when they took her from him, (and the maniac laid her hand on Jane's head) she was all gone here. The very day they put him under the green sod, she drowned herself in that deep place, under the mourning willow, that the boys call Lucy's well. And they buried her here, for the squires and the deacons found it against law and gospel too, to give her Christian burial."
Bet told all these circumstances with an expression and action that showed she was living the scene over, while her mind dwelt on them. Jane was deeply interested; and when Bet concluded, she said, "Poor Lucy! I never felt so much for her."
"That's right, child; now we will go on—but first let that tear-drop that glistens in the moonbeam, fall on the grave, it helps to keep the grass green—and the dead like to be cried for;" she added mournfully.
They now proceeded; crazy Bet leading the way, with long and hasty strides, in a diagonal course still ascending the hill, till she plunged into a deep wood, so richly clothed with foliage as to be impervious to the moon-beams, and so choked with underbrush, that Jane found it very difficult to keep up with her pioneer. They soon, however, emerged into an open space, completely surrounded and enclosed by lofty trees. Crazy
