“Dear child, no one could be expected to keep the place when there was so much to dwell on in the very comfort of the chapter. And now if you are not in haste, would you take me to the place that dear Bessie spoke of, by the willow-tree. I am almost afraid little Mary Lawrence’s grave may have left too little space.”
Rachel guided him to a lovely spot, almost overhanging the stream, with the dark calm pools beneath the high bank, and the willow casting a long morning shadow over it. Her mind went back to the merry drive from Avoncester, when she had first seen Elizabeth Keith, and had little dreamt that in one short year she should be choosing the spot for her grave. Mr. Clare paced the green nook and was satisfied, asking if it were not a very pretty place.
“Yes,” said Rachel, “there is such a quiet freshness, and the willow-tree seems to guard it.”
“Is there not a white foxglove on the bank?”
“Yes, but with only a bell or two left at the top of the side spikes.”
“Your aunt sowed the seed. It is strange that I was very near choosing this place nine years ago, but it could not be seen from my window, which was an object with me then.”
Just then his quick ear detected that some one was at the parsonage door, and Rachel, turning round, exclaimed with horror, “It is that unhappy Mr. Carleton.”
“Poor young fellow,” said Mr. Clare, with more of pity than of anger, “I had better speak to him.”
But they were far from the path, and it was not possible to guide the blind steps rapidly between the graves and head stones, so that before the pathway was reached young Carleton must have received the sad reply to his inquiries, for hurrying from the door he threw himself on his horse, and rode off at full speed.
By the afternoon, when Colonel Keith came to Bishopsworthy, Alick was lying on the sofa with such a headache that he could neither see nor spell, and Rachel was writing letters for him, both in the frame of mind in which the Colonel’s genuine warm affection and admiration for Bessie was very comforting, assisting them in putting all past misgivings out of sight. He had induced his brother to see Mr. Harvey, and the result had been that Lord Keith had consented to a consultation the next day with an eminent London surgeon, since it was clear that the blow, not the sciatica, was answerable for the suffering which was evidently becoming severe. The Colonel of course intended to remain with his brother, at least till after the funeral.