In the glory of the August
afternoon, the ladies of Seat-Sandal stood with Julius in the shadow of
the park gates, and watched the long procession winding slowly down the
fells. At first it was accompanied by fitful, varying gusts of solemn
melody; but as it drew nearer, the affecting tones of the funeral hymn
became more and more distinct and sustained. There were at least three
hundred voices thrilling the still, warm air with its pathetic music;
and, as they approached the church gates, it blended itself with the
heavy tread of those who carried and of those who followed the dead,
like a wonderful, triumphant march.
After the funeral was over, the squire went back to Up-Hill to eat the
arvel-meal, [Death-feast.] and to hear the will of his old friend read.
It was nearly dark when he returned, and he was very glad to find his
wife alone. "I have had a few hard hours, Alice," he said wearily; "and
I am more bothered about Barfs will than I can tell why."
"I suppose Steve got all."
"Pretty nearly. Barf's married daughters had their portions long ago,
but he left each of them three hundred pounds as a good-will token.
Ducie got a thousand pounds and her right in Up-Hill as long as she
lived. All else was for Steve except--and this bothers me--a box of
papers left in Ducie's charge. They are to be given to me at her
discretion; and, if not given during her lifetime or my lifetime, the
charge remains then between those that come after us.
Pages:
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75