Page:Salem - a tale of the seventeenth century (IA taleseventeenth00derbrich).pdf/236

 window, which overlooked the garden where her children played, her quiet eyes roaming, with their tender, wistful gaze, over the blue, dancing waters of the little cove to the fair, green hills beyond—or turning dreamily to the golden southwest, where the sunset clouds spread their pavilion curtains of purple and softest rose-tints; and "when the melancholy days had come, the saddest of the year," a shrouded armorial hatchment over Colonel Browne's door, a passing bell, and a slowly moving train wending its mournful way to the then thinly populated burial-ground, told of the removal of one whose youth and health, rank, wealth, beauty, grace, and loveliness are now known only "as a tale that is told."