They're
much to be pitied--poor people! Nobody thought it would come so sudden
like. When I saw her mother last, there was no such notion in her
head."
Before I could ask of whom they were talking, my father came up the
aisle from the vestry, and stopped to speak to the old women.
"Elsie Duff's gone, poor thing!" said the rheumatic one.
I grew stupid. What followed I have forgotten. A sound was in my ears,
and my body seemed to believe it, though my soul could not comprehend
it. When I came to myself I was alone in the church. They had gone
away without seeing me. I was standing beside the monument, leaning on
the carved Crusader. The sun was again shining, and the old church was
full of light. But the sunshine had changed to me, and I felt very
mournful. I should see the sweet face, hear the lovely voice, no more
in this world. I endeavoured to realize the thought, but could not,
and I left the church hardly conscious of anything but a dull sense of
loss.
I found my father very grave. He spoke tenderly of Elsie; but he did
not know how I had loved her, and I could not make much response. I
think, too, that he said less than he otherwise would, from the fear
of calling back to my mind too vivid a memory of how ill I had once
behaved to her. It was, indeed, my first thought the moment he uttered
her name, but it soon passed, for much had come between.
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