She had touched the hand pierced for
her salvation, and the weary was at rest. Elizabeth had promised her
that she should be laid in the church-yard at Hallam. There was no
opposition made to this disposition of the remains, and the funeral
was very quietly performed.
Unfortunately, during all these changes the rector had been away. About
a week before Antony's flight he was compelled to go to the south of
France. His health had failed in an alarming manner, and his recovery
had been slow and uncertain. Many a time, in her various trials,
Elizabeth had longed for his support. She had even thought that it
might be possible to tell him the full measure of her sorrow. At
Evelyn's funeral she missed him very much. She remembered how tender
and full of grace all his ministrations had been at her father's death.
But the poor little lady's obsequies were as lonely and sad as her
life. She was only the wife of an absconding debtor. She had died under
the roof of a woman who had seriously offended society by not taking
it into her confidence.
It was a cold, rainy day; there was nothing to be gained in any respect
by a wretched stand in the wet sodden grave-yard. Even the curate in
charge hurried over the service. The ceremony was so pitiably desolate
that Elizabeth wept at its remembrance for many a year; and between
her and Martha it was always a subject of sorrowful congratulation,
that little Harry had been too ill with a sore throat to go to the
funeral; and had, therefore, not witnessed it.
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