The Shadow of Ashlydyat Part 128

All Souls' clock struck eleven, and the beadle came out of the church and threw wide the gates. It was very punctual, for there came the hea.r.s.e in sight; punctual as he who was borne within it had in life always liked to be. Prior's Ash peeped through the c.h.i.n.ks of its shutters, behind its blinds and its curtains, to see the sight, as it came slowly winding along the street to the sound of the solemn bell.

Through the mist of blinding tears, which rolled down many a face, did Prior's Ash look out. They might have attended him to the grave, following un.o.btrusively, but that it was known to be the wish of the family that such demonstration should not be made: so they contented themselves with shutting up their houses, and observing the day as one of mourning. "Bury me in the plainest and simplest manner possible," had been Thomas G.o.dolphin's directions when the end was drawing near. Under the circ.u.mstances, it was only seemly to do so; but so antagonistic were pomp and show of all kinds to the tastes of Thomas G.o.dolphin, in all things that related to himself, that it is more than probable the same orders would have been given had he died as his forefathers had died--the Master of Ashlydyat, the wealthy chief of the G.o.dolphins.

So a hea.r.s.e and a mourning-coach were all that had been commanded to Ashlydyat. What means, then, this pageantry of carriages that follow?

Fine carriages, gay with colours as they file past, one by one, the eyes of Prior's Ash strained on them, some with coronets on their panels, all with closed blinds, a long line of them. Lady G.o.dolphin's is first, taking its place next the mourning-coach. They have come from various parts of the county, near and distant, to show their owners' homage to that good man who had earned their deepest respect during life.

Willingly, willingly would those owners have attended and mourned him in person, but for the same reason which kept away the more humble inhabitants of Prior's Ash. Slowly the procession gained the churchyard, and the hea.r.s.e and the mourning-coach stopped: the rest of the carriages filed off and turned their horses' heads to face the churchyard, and waited still and quiet while the hea.r.s.e was emptied. Out of the mourning-coach stepped two mourners only: George G.o.dolphin and the Viscount Averil.

The Rector of All Souls' stood at the gate in his surplice, book in hand. He turned, reciting the commencement of the service for the burial of the dead: "I am the resurrection and the life." While they were in the church, the graveyard filled; by ones, by twos, by threes, they came stealing in, regardless of the weather, to see the last of the Master of Ashlydyat: and the beadle was lenient to-day.

The Rector of All Souls' took his place at the head of the grave and read the service, as the coffin was lowered. George stood next to him; close to George, Lord Averil; and the other mourners were cl.u.s.tered beyond. Their faces were bent: the drizzling rain beat upon their bare heads. How did George feel as he stood there, between the two men whom he had so wronged? The Rector glanced at him once, and saw that he had difficulty in suppressing his emotion.

"I heard a voice from heaven, saying unto me, Write, From henceforth blessed are the dead which die in the Lord: even so, saith the Spirit: for they rest from their labours."

So hushed was the silence, that every word, as it fell solemnly from the lips of the minister, might be heard in all parts of the churchyard. If ever that verse could apply to frail humanity, with its unceasing struggle after holiness and its unceasing failure _here_, it most surely applied to him over whom it was being spoken. George G.o.dolphin's head was bowed, his face hidden in his handkerchief; the rain pattered down on his golden hair. He had gone to his grave so early! Bend forward, as so many of those spectators are doing, and read the inscription on the plate. There is a little earth on the coffin, but the plate is visible.

"Thomas G.o.dolphin of Ashlydyat: aged forty-five years."

Only forty-five years! A period at which some men think they are only beginning life. So early a grave!--and George had helped to send him to it!

It was over: and the spectators began to draw un.o.btrusively away, silently and decently. In the general crowd and bustle, for every one seemed to be on the move, George turned suddenly to the Rector and held out his hand. "Will you shake hands with me, Mr. Hastings?"

There was a perceptible hesitation on the Rector's part, not in the least sought to be disguised, ere he responded to it, and then he put his own hand into the one held out. It was the first time they had met since the crash. "I cannot do otherwise over the dead body of your brother," was the answer. "But neither can I be a hypocrite, George G.o.dolphin, and say that I forgive you, for it would not be true. The result of the injury you did me presses daily and hourly upon us in a hundred ways, and my mind as yet has refused to be brought into that charitable frame necessary to entire forgiveness. This is not altogether the fault of my will. I wish to forgive you for your wife's sake and for my own; I pray night and morning that I may be enabled heartily to forgive you before I die. I would not be your enemy; I wish you well, and there's my hand in token of it: but to p.r.o.nounce forgiveness is not yet in my power. Will you call in and see Mrs. Hastings?"

"I have not time to-day. I must go back to London this evening, but I shall be down again very shortly and will see her then. It was a peaceful ending."

George was gazing down dreamily at the coffin as he spoke the last words. The Rector looked at him.

"A peaceful ending! Yes. It could not be anything else with _him_."

"No, no," murmured George. "Not anything else with him."

"May G.o.d in His mercy send us all as happy a one, when our time shall come!"

As the words left the Rector's lips, the heavy bell boomed out again, giving notice to Prior's Ash that the last rites were over: that the world had closed for ever on Thomas G.o.dolphin.

"Oh, George! _can't_ you stay with me?"

The words broke from Maria with a wail of anguish as she rose to bid her husband good-bye. He was hastening away to catch the evening train. It seemed that she had not liked to prefer the request before, had put it off to the last moment. In point of fact, she had seen very little of George all day. After the funeral he had returned in the coach with Lord Averil to Ashlydyat, and only came home late in the afternoon.

Lord and Lady Averil, recalled so suddenly from their wedding tour, had reached Ashlydyat the previous night, and would not leave it again.

Janet was to depart from it in a few days; Bessy would be on the morrow with Lady G.o.dolphin.

George would not believe that his wife was in any sort of danger. He had been to Mr. Snow, begged him to take all possible care of her, and asked whether there were really any grounds for alarm. Mr. Snow answered him that he could not say for certain: she was, no doubt, very weak and poorly, but he saw no reason why she should not get out of it; and as for himself, he _was_ taking of her all the care he could take. The reply satisfied George, and he became full of the projects and details of his departure, entering into them so warmly with her that Maria caught the spirit of enterprise, and was beguiled into a belief that she might yet go also.

He had come home from the funeral bearing a parcel wrapped in paper for Meta. It had been found amidst Thomas G.o.dolphin's things, directed to the child. George lifted Meta on to his knee--very grave, very subdued was his face to-day--and opened it. It proved to be a Bible, and on the fly-leaf in his own hand was written, "Uncle Thomas's last and best gift to Meta," and it was dated the day he died. Lower down were the words, "My ways are ways of pleasantness, and all my paths are peace."

And the evening had gone on, and it grew time for George to leave. It was as he bent to kiss his wife that she had burst out with that wailing cry. "Oh, George! can't you stay with me?"

"My darling, I must go. I shall soon be down again."

"Only a little while! A little longer!"

The tone in its anguish quite distressed him. "I would stay if it were possible: but it is not so. I came down for a day only, you know, Maria, and I have remained more than a week. It will not be so very long before we sail, and I shall have my hands full with the preparations for our voyage."

"I have been so much alone," she sobbed hysterically. "I get thinking and thinking: it does not give me a chance to recover. George, you have been always away from me since the trouble came."

"I could not help it. Maria, I could not bear Prior's Ash; I _could_ not stop in it," he cried with a burst of genuine truth. "But for you and Thomas, I should never have set my foot in the place again, once I was quit of it. Now, however, I am compelled to be in London; there are fifty things to see to. Keep up your courage, my darling! A little while, and we shall be together and happy as we used to be."

"Sir," said Margery, putting her head in the door, "do you want to catch the nine train?"

"All right," answered George.

"It may be all right if you run for it, it won't be all right else,"

grunted Margery.

He flew off, catching up his hand-portmanteau as he went, and waving his adieu to Meta. That young damsel, accustomed to be made a great deal of, could not understand so summary and slight a leave-taking, and she stood quite still in her consternation, staring after her papa: or rather at the door he had gone out of. Margery was right, and George found that he must indeed hasten if he would save the train. Maria, with a storm of hysterical sobs, grievous to witness, caught Meta in her arms, sat down on the sofa, and sobbed over the child, as she strained her to her bosom.

Meta was used to her mamma's grief now, and she lay quite still, her shoes and white socks peeping out beyond the black frock; nay, a considerable view of the straight little legs peeping out as well. Maria bent her head until her aching forehead rested on the fair plump neck.

"Mamma! Mamma, dear! Mamma's crying for poor Uncle Thomas!"

"No," said Maria in the bitterness of her heart. "If we were but where Uncle Thomas is, we should be happy. I cry for us who are left, Meta!"

"Hey-day! and what on earth's the meaning of this? Do you think this is the way to get strong, Mrs. George G.o.dolphin?"

They had not heard him come in. Meta, always ready for visitors, scuffled off her mamma's lap gleefully, and Mr. Snow drew a chair in front of Maria and watched her trying to dry away her tears. He moved a little to the right, that the light of the lamp which was behind him might fall upon her face.

"Now just you have the goodness to tell me what it is that's the matter."

"I--I am low-spirited, I think," said Maria, her voice subdued and weak now.

"Low-spirited!" echoed Mr. Snow. "Then I'd get high-spirited, if I were you. I wish there never had been such a thing as spirits invented, for my part! A nice excuse it is for you ladies to sigh away half your time instead of being rational and merry, as you ought to be. A woman of your sense ought to be above it, Mrs. George G.o.dolphin."

"Mr. Snow," interrupted a troublesome little voice, "papa's gone back to London. He went without saying good-bye to Meta!"

"Ah! Miss Meta had been naughty, I expect."

Meta shook her head very decisively in the negative, but Mr. Snow had turned to Maria.

"And so you were crying after that roving husband of yours! I guessed as much. He nearly ran over me at the gate. 'Step in and see my wife, will you, Snow?' said he. 'She wants tonics, or something.' You don't want tonics half as much as you want common sense, Mrs. George G.o.dolphin."

"I am so weak," was her feeble excuse. "A little thing upsets me now."

"Well, and what can you expect? If I sat over my surgery fire all day stewing and fretting, a pretty doctor I should soon become for my patients! I wonder you----"

"Have you looked at my new black frock, Mr. Snow?"

She was a young lady who would be attended to, let who would go without attention. She had lifted up her white pinafore and stood in front of him, waiting for the frock to be admired.