At a sign from Dr. Grey he came forward, and bowed to the stranger.
“Robert, I am obliged to be absent for several hours, and Miss Owen will remain until I return. If you need advice or assistance come to her, and do not disturb Mrs. Gerome, who is lying on a sofa in the parlor. I will drive through town, and send your minister out immediately.”
“You are very good, sir. Do you think the funeral should take place before to-morrow? I want to speak to my mistress about it.”
“For her sake, it is advisable that it should not be delayed beyond this afternoon. It is very harrowing to know that the body is lying here, and I think she would prefer to leave all these matters to you. It would be better for all parties to have the funeral ceremonies ended this evening.”
“I suppose, sir, you know that my poor mother will be buried here, in the grounds.”
“For what reason? The cemetery is certainly the best place.”
Robert handed a slip of paper to Dr. Grey, who read, in a remarkably beautiful chirograph, the following words,—
“Robert, it was your mother’s desire and is my wish that she should be buried near that cluster of deodar cedars, just beyond the mound. Send for an undertaker, and for the minister who visited her during her illness; and let everything be done as if it were my funeral instead of hers. Put some geranium leaves and violets in her dear hands, and upon her breast.”
“When did you receive this?” asked Dr. Grey.