When a prayer was offered, all the other persons present bowed their heads, but the mistress of the mansion remained erect and motionless; and, as the pall-bearers took up the coffin and proceeded to the grave, she followed Robert.
Dr. Grey stepped to her side and offered his arm, but she took no notice of the act, and walked on as if she were an automaton.
The service was concluded, the coffin lowered, and, amid Robert’s half-smothered sobs, the mound was raised under the deodars, whose long shadows slanted athwart it, in the dying sunlight.
The little group dispersed, and Mr. Spiewell led his wife to the owner of “Solitude.”
“Mrs. Gerome, Mrs. Spiewell and I have long desired the pleasure of your acquaintance, and hope, if you need friends, you will permit us—”
“Thank you for your kindness in visiting my faithful old Elsie.”
The tall, veiled figure had cut short his speech by a quick, imperative gesture of her hand; and, turning instantly away, disappeared in one of the densely shaded walks that wound through the grounds.
Dr. Grey escorted the party to their carriages, and as he handed Mrs. Spiewell in, she said, in her sharp nasal tones,—
“I heard that Mrs. Gerome was devotedly attached to the poor old creature who had nursed her, but she certainly seems to me very indifferent and heartless.”