Twice-Told Tales Page 3

  THE MINISTER'S BLACK VEIL A PARABLE[1]

  [1] Another clergyman in New England, Mr. Joseph Moody, of York,Maine, who died about eighty years since, made himself remarkableby the same eccentricity that is here related of the Reverend Mr.Hooper. In his case, however, the symbol had a different import.In early life he had accidentally killed a beloved friend, andfrom that day till the hour of his own death, he hid his facefrom men.

  The sexton stood in the porch of Milford meeting-house, pullingbusily at the bell-rope. The old people of the village camestooping along the street. Children, with bright faces, trippedmerrily beside their parents, or mimicked a graver gait, in theconscious dignity of their Sunday clothes. Spruce bachelorslooked sidelong at the pretty maidens, and fancied that theSabbath sunshine made them prettier than on week days. When thethrong had mostly streamed into the porch, the sexton began totoll the bell, keeping his eye on the Reverend Mr. Hooper's door.The first glimpse of the clergyman's figure was the signal forthe bell to cease its summons.

  "But what has good Parson Hooper got upon his face?" cried thesexton in astonishment.

  All within hearing immediately turned about, and beheld thesemblance of Mr. Hooper, pacing slowly his meditative way towardsthe meetinghouse. With one accord they started, expressing morewonder than if some strange minister were coming to dust thecushions of Mr. Hooper's pulpit.

  "Are you sure it is our parson?" inquired Goodman Gray of thesexton.

  "Of a certainty it is good Mr. Hooper," replied the sexton. "Hewas to have exchanged pulpits with Parson Shute, of Westbury; butParson Shute sent to excuse himself yesterday, being to preach afuneral sermon."

  The cause of so much amazement may appear sufficiently slight.Mr. Hooper, a gentlemanly person, of about thirty, though still abachelor, was dressed with due clerical neatness, as if a carefulwife had starched his band, and brushed the weekly dust from hisSunday's garb. There was but one thing remarkable in hisappearance. Swathed about his forehead, and hanging down over hisface, so low as to be shaken by his breath, Mr. Hooper had on ablack veil. On a nearer view it seemed to consist of two folds ofcrape, which entirely concealed his features, except the mouthand chin, but probably did not intercept his sight, further thanto give a darkened aspect to all living and inanimate things.With this gloomy shade before him, good Mr. Hooper walked onward,at a slow and quiet pace, stooping somewhat, and looking on theground, as is customary with abstracted men, yet nodding kindlyto those of his parishioners who still waited on themeeting-house steps. But so wonder-struck were they that hisgreeting hardly met with a return.

  "I can't really feel as if good Mr. Hooper's face was behind thatpiece of crape," said the sexton.

  "I don't like it," muttered an old woman, as she hobbled into themeeting-house. "He has changed himself into something awful, onlyby hiding his face."

  "Our parson has gone mad!" cried Goodman Gray, following himacross the threshold.

  A rumor of some unaccountable phenomenon had preceded Mr. Hooperinto the meeting-house, and set all the congregation astir. Fewcould refrain from twisting their heads towards the door; manystood upright, and turned directly about; while several littleboys clambered upon the seats, and came down again with aterrible racket. There was a general bustle, a rustling of thewomen's gowns and shuffling of the men's feet, greatly atvariance with that hushed repose which should attend the entranceof the minister. But Mr. Hooper appeared not to notice theperturbation of his people. He entered with an almost noiselessstep, bent his head mildly to the pews on each side, and bowed ashe passed his oldest parishioner, a white-haired great grandsire,who occupied an arm-chair in the centre of the aisle. It wasstrange to observe how slowly this venerable man became consciousof something singular in the appearance of his pastor. He seemednot fully to partake of the prevailing wonder, till Mr. Hooperhad ascended the stairs, and showed himself in the pulpit, faceto face with his congregation, except for the black veil. Thatmysterious emblem was never once withdrawn. It shook with hismeasured breath, as he gave out the psalm; it threw its obscuritybetween him and the holy page, as he read the Scriptures; andwhile he prayed, the veil lay heavily on his upliftedcountenance. Did he seek to hide it from the dread Being whom hewas addressing?

  Such was the effect of this simple piece of crape, that more thanone woman of delicate nerves was forced to leave themeeting-house. Yet perhaps the pale-faced congregation was almostas fearful a sight to the minister, as his black veil to them.

  Mr. Hooper had the reputation of a good preacher, but not anenergetic one: he strove to win his people heavenward by mild,persuasive influences, rather than to drive them thither by thethunders of the Word. The sermon which he now delivered wasmarked by the same characteristics of style and manner as thegeneral series of his pulpit oratory. But there was something,either in the sentiment of the discourse itself, or in theimagination of the auditors, which made it greatly the mostpowerful effort that they had ever heard from their pastor'slips. It was tinged, rather more darkly than usual, with thegentle gloom of Mr. Hooper's temperament. The subject hadreference to secret sin, and those sad mysteries which we hidefrom our nearest and dearest, and would fain conceal from our ownconsciousness, even forgetting that the Omniscient can detectthem. A subtle power was breathed into his words. Each member ofthe congregation, the most innocent girl, and the man of hardenedbreast, felt as if the preacher had crept upon them, behind hisawful veil, and discovered their hoarded iniquity of deed orthought. Many spread their clasped hands on their bosoms. Therewas nothing terrible in what Mr. Hooper said, at least, noviolence; and yet, with every tremor of his melancholy voice, thehearers quaked. An unsought pathos came hand in hand with awe. Sosensible were the audience of some unwonted attribute in theirminister, that they longed for a breath of wind to blow aside theveil, almost believing that a stranger's visage would bediscovered, though the form, gesture, and voice were those of Mr.Hooper.

  At the close of the services, the people hurried out withindecorous confusion, eager to communicate their pent-upamazement, and conscious of lighter spirits the moment they lostsight of the black veil. Some gathered in little circles, huddledclosely together, with their mouths all whispering in the centre;some went homeward alone, wrapt in silent meditation; some talkedloudly, and profaned the Sabbath day with ostentatious laughter.A few shook their sagacious heads, intimating that they couldpenetrate the mystery; while one or two affirmed that there wasno mystery at all, but only that Mr. Hooper's eyes were soweakened by the midnight lamp, as to require a shade. After abrief interval, forth came good Mr. Hooper also, in the rear ofhis flock. Turning his veiled face from one group to another, hepaid due reverence to the hoary heads, saluted the middle agedwith kind dignity as their friend and spiritual guide, greetedthe young with mingled authority and love, and laid his hands onthe little children's heads to bless them. Such was always hiscustom on the Sabbath day. Strange and bewildered looks repaidhim for his courtesy. None, as on former occasions, aspired tothe honor of walking by their pastor's side. Old Squire Saunders,doubtless by an accidental lapse of memory, neglected to inviteMr. Hooper to his table, where the good clergyman had been wontto bless the food, almost every Sunday since his settlement. Hereturned, therefore, to the parsonage, and, at the moment ofclosing the door, was observed to look back upon the people, allof whom had their eyes fixed upon the minister. A sad smilegleamed faintly from beneath the black veil, and flickered abouthis mouth, glimmering as he disappeared.

  "How strange," said a lady, "that a simple black veil, such asany woman might wear on her bonnet, should become such a terriblething on Mr. Hooper's face!"

  "Something must surely be amiss with Mr. Hooper's intellects,"observed her husband, the physician of the village. "But thestrangest part of the affair is the effect of this vagary, evenon a sober-minded man like myself. The black veil, though itcovers only our pastor's face, throws its influence over hiswhole person, and makes him ghostlike from head to foot. Do younot feel it so?"

  "Truly do I," rep
lied the lady; "and I would not be alone withhim for the world. I wonder he is not afraid to be alone withhimself!"

  "Men sometimes are so," said her husband.

  The afternoon service was attended with similar circumstances. Atits conclusion, the bell tolled for the funeral of a young lady.The relatives and friends were assembled in the house, and themore distant acquaintances stood about the door, speaking of thegood qualities of the deceased, when their talk was interruptedby the appearance of Mr. Hooper, still covered with his blackveil. It was now an appropriate emblem. The clergyman steppedinto the room where the corpse was laid, and bent over thecoffin, to take a last farewell of his deceased parishioner. Ashe stooped, the veil hung straight down from his forehead, sothat, if her eyelids had not been closed forever, the dead maidenmight have seen his face. Could Mr. Hooper be fearful of herglance, that he so hastily caught back the black veil? A personwho watched the interview between the dead and living, scruplednot to affirm, that, at the instant when the clergyman's featureswere disclosed, the corpse had slightly shuddered, rustling theshroud and muslin cap, though the countenance retained thecomposure of death. A superstitious old woman was the onlywitness of this prodigy. From the coffin Mr. Hooper passed intothe chamber of the mourners, and thence to the head of thestaircase, to make the funeral prayer. It was a tender andheart-dissolving prayer, full of sorrow, yet so imbued withcelestial hopes, that the music of a heavenly harp, swept by thefingers of the dead, seemed faintly to be heard among the saddestaccents of the minister. The people trembled, though they butdarkly understood him when he prayed that they, and himself, andall of mortal race, might be ready, as he trusted this youngmaiden had been, for the dreadful hour that should snatch theveil from their faces. The bearers went heavily forth, and themourners followed, saddening all the street, with the dead beforethem, and Mr. Hooper in his black veil behind.

  "Why do you look back?" said one in the procession to hispartner.

  "I had a fancy," replied she, "that the minister and the maiden'sspirit were walking hand in hand."

  "And so had I, at the same moment," said the other.

  That night, the handsomest couple in Milford village were to bejoined in wedlock. Though reckoned a melancholy man, Mr. Hooperhad a placid cheerfulness for such occasions, which often exciteda sympathetic smile where livelier merriment would have beenthrown away. There was no quality of his disposition which madehim more beloved than this. The company at the wedding awaitedhis arrival with impatience, trusting that the strange awe, whichhad gathered over him throughout the day, would now be dispelled.But such was not the result. When Mr. Hooper came, the firstthing that their eyes rested on was the same horrible black veil,which had added deeper gloom to the funeral, and could portendnothing but evil to the wedding. Such was its immediate effect onthe guests that a cloud seemed to have rolled duskily frombeneath the black crape, and dimmed the light of the candles. Thebridal pair stood up before the minister. But the bride's coldfingers quivered in the tremulous hand of the bridegroom, and herdeathlike paleness caused a whisper that the maiden who had beenburied a few hours before was come from her grave to be married.If ever another wedding were so dismal, it was that famous onewhere they tolled the wedding knell. After performing theceremony, Mr. Hooper raised a glass of wine to his lips, wishinghappiness to the newmarried couple in a strain of mild pleasantrythat ought to have brightened the features of the guests, like acheerful gleam from the hearth. At that instant, catching aglimpse of his figure in the looking-glass, the black veilinvolved his own spirit in the horror with which it overwhelmedall others. His frame shuddered, his lips grew white, he spiltthe untasted wine upon the carpet, and rushed forth into thedarkness. For the Earth, too, had on her Black Veil.

  The next day, the whole village of Milford talked of little elsethan Parson Hooper's black veil. That, and the mystery concealedbehind it, supplied a topic for discussion between acquaintancesmeeting in the street, and good women gossiping at their openwindows. It was the first item of news that the tavern-keepertold to his guests. The children babbled of it on their way toschool. One imitative little imp covered his face with an oldblack handkerchief, thereby so affrighting his playmates that thepanic seized himself, and he well-nigh lost his wits by his ownwaggery.

  It was remarkable that all of the busybodies and impertinentpeople in the parish, not one ventured to put the plain questionto Mr. Hooper, wherefore he did this thing. Hitherto, wheneverthere appeared the slightest call for such interference, he hadnever lacked advisers, nor shown himself averse to be guided bytheir judgment. If he erred at all, it was by so painful a degreeof self-distrust, that even the mildest censure would lead him toconsider an indifferent action as a crime. Yet, though so wellacquainted with this amiable weakness, no individual among hisparishioners chose to make the black veil a subject of friendlyremonstrance. There was a feeling of dread, neither plainlyconfessed nor carefully concealed, which caused each to shift theresponsibility upon another, till at length it was foundexpedient to send a deputation of the church, in order to dealwith Mr. Hooper about the mystery, before it should grow into ascandal. Never did an embassy so ill discharge its duties. Theminister received then with friendly courtesy, but became silent,after they were seated, leaving to his visitors the whole burdenof introducing their important business. The topic, it might besupposed, was obvious enough. There was the black veil swathedround Mr. Hooper's forehead, and concealing every feature abovehis placid mouth, on which, at times, they could perceive theglimmering of a melancholy smile. But that piece of crape, totheir imagination, seemed to hang down before his heart, thesymbol of a fearful secret between him and them. Were the veilbut cast aside, they might speak freely of it, but not till then.Thus they sat a considerable time, speechless, confused, andshrinking uneasily from Mr. Hooper's eye, which they felt to befixed upon them with an invisible glance. Finally, the deputiesreturned abashed to their constituents, pronouncing the mattertoo weighty to be handled, except by a council of the churches,if, indeed, it might not require a general synod.

  But there was one person in the village unappalled by the awewith which the black veil had impressed all beside herself. Whenthe deputies returned without an explanation, or even venturingto demand one, she, with the calm energy of her character,determined to chase away the strange cloud that appeared to besettling round Mr. Hooper, every moment more darkly than before.As his plighted wife, it should be her privilege to know what theblack veil concealed. At the minister's first visit, therefore,she entered upon the subject with a direct simplicity, which madethe task easier both for him and her. After he had seatedhimself, she fixed her eyes steadfastly upon the veil, but coulddiscern nothing of the dreadful gloom that had so overawed themultitude: it was but a double fold of crape, hanging down fromhis forehead to his mouth, and slightly stirring with his breath.

  "No," said she aloud, and smiling, "there is nothing terrible inthis piece of crape, except that it hides a face which I amalways glad to look upon. Come, good sir, let the sun shine frombehind the cloud. First lay aside your black veil: then tell mewhy you put it on."

  Mr. Hooper's smile glimmered faintly.

  "There is an hour to come," said he, "when all of us shall castaside our veils. Take it not amiss, beloved friend, if I wearthis piece of crape till then."

  "Your words are a mystery, too," returned the young lady. "Takeaway the veil from them, at least."

  "Elizabeth, I will," said he, "so far as my vow may suffer me.Know, then, this veil is a type and a symbol, and I am bound towear it ever, both in light and darkness, in solitude and beforethe gaze of multitudes, and as with strangers, so with myfamiliar friends. No mortal eye will see it withdrawn. Thisdismal shade must separate me from the world: even you,Elizabeth, can never come behind it!"

  "What grievous affliction hath befallen you," she earnestlyinquired, "that you should thus darken your eyes forever?"

  "If it be a sign of mourning," replied Mr. Hooper, "I, perhaps,like most other mortals, have sorrows
dark enough to be typifiedby a black veil."

  "But what if the world will not believe that it is the type of aninnocent sorrow?" urged Elizabeth. "Beloved and respected as youare, there may be whispers that you hide your face under theconsciousness of secret sin. For the sake of your holy office, doaway this scandal!"

  The color rose into her cheeks as she intimated the nature of therumors that were already abroad in the village. But Mr. Hooper'smildness did not forsake him. He even smiled again--that same sadsmile, which always appeared like a faint glimmering of light,proceeding from the obscurity beneath the veil.

  "If I hide my face for sorrow, there is cause enough," he merelyreplied; "and if I cover it for secret sin, what mortal might notdo the same?"

  And with this gentle, but unconquerable obstinacy did he resistall her entreaties. At length Elizabeth sat silent. For a fewmoments she appeared lost in thought, considering, probably, whatnew methods might be tried to withdraw her lover from so dark afantasy, which, if it had no other meaning, was perhaps a symptomof mental disease. Though of a firmer character than his own, thetears rolled down her cheeks. But, in an instant, as it were, anew feeling took the place of sorrow: her eyes were fixedinsensibly on the black veil, when, like a sudden twilight in theair, its terrors fell around her. She arose, and stood tremblingbefore him.

  "And do you feel it then, at last?" said he mournfully.

  She made no reply, but covered her eyes with her hand, and turnedto leave the room. He rushed forward and caught her arm.

  "Have patience with me, Elizabeth!" cried he, passionately. "Donot desert me, though this veil must be between us here on earth.Be mine, and hereafter there shall be no veil over my face, nodarkness between our souls! It is but a mortal veil--it is notfor eternity! O! you know not how lonely I am, and howfrightened, to be alone behind my black veil. Do not leave me inthis miserable obscurity forever!"

  "Lift the veil but once, and look me in the face," said she.

  "Never! It cannot be!" replied Mr. Hooper.

  "Then farewell!" said Elizabeth.

  She withdrew her arm from his grasp, and slowly departed, pausingat the door, to give one long shuddering gaze, that seemed almostto penetrate the mystery of the black veil. But, even amid hisgrief, Mr. Hooper smiled to think that only a material emblem hadseparated him from happiness, though the horrors, which itshadowed forth, must be drawn darkly between the fondest oflovers.

  From that time no attempts were made to remove Mr. Hooper's blackveil, or, by a direct appeal, to discover the secret which it wassupposed to hide. By persons who claimed a superiority to popularprejudice, it was reckoned merely an eccentric whim, such asoften mingles with the sober actions of men otherwise rational,and tinges them all with its own semblance of insanity. But withthe multitude, good Mr. Hooper was irreparably a bugbear. He couldnot walk the street with any peace of mind, so conscious was hethat the gentle and timid would turn aside to avoid him, and thatothers would make it a point of hardihood to throw themselves inhis way. The impertinence of the latter class compelled him togive up his customary walk at sunset to the burial ground; forwhen he leaned pensively over the gate, there would always befaces behind the gravestones, peeping at his black veil. A fablewent the rounds that the stare of the dead people drove himthence. It grieved him, to the very depth of his kind heart, toobserve how the children fled from his approach, breaking uptheir merriest sports, while his melancholy figure was yet afaroff. Their instinctive dread caused him to feel more stronglythan aught else, that a preternatural horror was interwoven withthe threads of the black crape. In truth, his own antipathy tothe veil was known to be so great, that he never willingly passedbefore a mirror, nor stooped to drink at a still fountain, lest,in its peaceful bosom, he should be affrighted by himself. Thiswas what gave plausibility to the whispers, that Mr. Hooper'sconscience tortured him for some great crime too horrible to beentirely concealed, or otherwise than so obscurely intimated.Thus, from beneath the black veil, there rolled a cloud into thesunshine, an ambiguity of sin or sorrow, which enveloped the poorminister, so that love or sympathy could never reach him. It wassaid that ghost and fiend consorted with him there. Withself-shudderings and outward terrors, he walked continually inits shadow, groping darkly within his own soul, or gazing througha medium that saddened the whole world. Even the lawless wind, itwas believed, respected his dreadful secret, and never blew asidethe veil. But still good Mr. Hooper sadly smiled at the palevisages of the worldly throng as he passed by.

  Among all its bad influences, the black veil had the onedesirable effect, of making its wearer a very efficientclergyman. By the aid of his mysterious emblem--for there was noother apparent cause--he became a man of awful power over soulsthat were in agony for sin. His converts always regarded him witha dread peculiar to themselves, affirming, though butfiguratively, that, before he brought them to celestial light,they had been with him behind the black veil. Its gloom, indeed,enabled him to sympathize with all dark affections. Dying sinnerscried aloud for Mr. Hooper, and would not yield their breath tillhe appeared; though ever, as he stooped to whisper consolation,they shuddered at the veiled face so near their own. Such werethe terrors of the black veil, even when Death had bared hisvisage! Strangers came long distances to attend service at hischurch, with the mere idle purpose of gazing at his figure,because it was forbidden them to behold his face. But many weremade to quake ere they departed! Once, during Governor Belcher'sadministration, Mr. Hooper was appointed to preach the electionsermon. Covered with his black veil, he stood before the chiefmagistrate, the council, and the representatives, and wrought sodeep an impression, that the legislative measures of that yearwere characterized by all the gloom and piety of our earliestancestral sway.

  In this manner Mr. Hooper spent a long life, irreproachable inoutward act, yet shrouded in dismal suspicions; kind and loving,though unloved, and dimly feared; a man apart from men, shunnedin their health and joy, but ever summoned to their aid in mortalanguish. As years wore on, shedding their snows above his sableveil, he acquired a name throughout the New England churches, andthey called him Father Hooper. Nearly all his parishioners, whowere of mature age when he was settled, had been borne away bymany a funeral: he had one congregation in the church, and a morecrowded one in the churchyard; and having wrought so late intothe evening, and done his work so well, it was now good FatherHooper's turn to rest.

  Several persons were visible by the shaded candlelight, in thedeath chamber of the old clergyman. Natural connections he hadnone. But there was the decorously grave, though unmovedphysician, seeking only to mitigate the last pangs of the patientwhom he could not save. There were the deacons, and othereminently pious members of his church. There, also, was theReverend Mr. Clark, of Westbury, a young and zealous divine, whohad ridden in haste to pray by the bedside of the expiringminister. There was the nurse, no hired handmaiden of death, butone whose calm affection had endured thus long in secrecy, insolitude, amid the chill of age, and would not perish, even atthe dying hour. Who, but Elizabeth! And there lay the hoary headof good Father Hooper upon the death pillow, with the black veilstill swathed about his brow, and reaching down over his face, sothat each more difficult gasp of his faint breath caused it tostir. All through life that piece of crape had hung between himand the world: it had separated him from cheerful brotherhood andwoman's love, and kept him in that saddest of all prisons, hisown heart; and still it lay upon his face, as if to deepen thegloom of his darksome chamber, and shade him from the sunshine ofeternity.

  For some time previous, his mind had been confused, waveringdoubtfully between the past and the present, and hoveringforward, as it were, at intervals, into the indistinctness of theworld to come. There had been feverish turns, which tossed himfrom side to side, and wore away what little strength he had. Butin his most convulsive struggles, and in the wildest vagaries ofhis intellect, when no other thought retained its soberinfluence, he still showed an awful solicitude lest the blackveil should slip aside. Even if his bewi
ldered soul could haveforgotten, there was a faithful woman at this pillow, who, withaverted eyes, would have covered that aged face, which she hadlast beheld in the comeliness of manhood. At length thedeath-stricken old man lay quietly in the torpor of mental andbodily exhaustion, with an imperceptible pulse, and breath thatgrew fainter and fainter, except when a long, deep, and irregularinspiration seemed to prelude the flight of his spirit.

  The minister of Westbury approached the bedside.

  "Venerable Father Hooper," said he, "the moment of your releaseis at hand. Are you ready for the lifting of the veil that shutsin time from eternity?"

  Father Hooper at first replied merely by a feeble motion of hishead; then, apprehensive, perhaps, that his meaning might bedoubted, he exerted himself to speak.

  "Yea," said he, in faint accents, "my soul hath a patientweariness until that veil be lifted."

  "And is it fitting," resumed the Reverend Mr. Clark, "that a manso given to prayer, of such a blameless example, holy in deed andthought, so far as mortal judgment may pronounce; is it fittingthat a father in the church should leave a shadow on his memory,that may seem to blacken a life so pure? I pray you, my venerablebrother, let not this thing be! Suffer us to be gladdened by yourtriumphant aspect as you go to your reward. Before the veil ofeternity be lifted, let me cast aside this black veil from yourface!"

  And thus speaking, the Reverend Mr. Clark bent forward to revealthe mystery of so many years. But, exerting a sudden energy, thatmade all the beholders stand aghast, Father Hooper snatched bothhis hands from beneath the bedclothes, and pressed them stronglyon the black veil, resolute to struggle, if the minister ofWestbury would contend with a dying man.

  "Never!" cried the veiled clergyman. "On earth, never!"

  "Dark old man!" exclaimed the affrighted minister, "with whathorrible crime upon your soul are you now passing to thejudgment?"

  Father Hooper's breath heaved; it rattled in his throat; but,with a mighty effort, grasping forward with his hands, he caughthold of life, and held it back till he should speak. He evenraised himself in bed; and there he sat, shivering with the armsof death around him, while the black veil hung down, awful, atthat last moment, in the gathered terrors of a lifetime. And yetthe faint, sad smile, so often there, now seemed to glimmer fromits obscurity, and linger on Father Hooper's lips.

  "Why do you tremble at me alone?" cried he, turning his veiledface round the circle of pale spectators. "Tremble also at eachother! Have men avoided me, and women shown no pity, and childrenscreamed and fled, only for my black veil? What, but the mysterywhich it obscurely typifies, has made this piece of crape soawful? When the friend shows his inmost heart to his friend; thelover to his best beloved; when man does not vainly shrink fromthe eye of his Creator, loathsomely treasuring up the secret ofhis sin; then deem me a monster, for the symbol beneath which Ihave lived, and die! I look around me, and, lo! on every visage aBlack Veil!"

  While his auditors shrank from one another, in mutual affright,Father Hooper fell back upon his pillow, a veiled corpse, with afaint smile lingering on the lips. Still veiled, they laid him inhis coffin, and a veiled corpse they bore him to the grave. Thegrass of many years has sprung up and withered on that grave, theburial stone is moss-grown, and good Mr. Hooper's face is dust;but awful is still the thought that it mouldered beneath theBlack Veil!