And she soon escaped. Three lines of truly kind congratulation lay on Marilda's toilette table the next morning. Alda attempted no more—hers was a grief that would not brook the light.

So morning dawned on the day when the Church was to give the brothers and sisters voice for their farewells to that beloved and honoured head of their orphaned home.

So far as depended on them, and by Felix's own express written desire, all was far plainer than in the case of their parents, when he had been in bondage to Thomas Underwood's views of propriety. Now—so far from the seventy-five yards of black cloth bedecking the church, it had not lost one holly wreath, one ivy streamer: the scarlet and white flowers were fresh, the star of Bethlehem in pale bright everlasting flowers still stood prominent, and in letters of golden straw the Epiphany promise:

'The sun shall no more be thy light by day,
Neither for brightness shall the moon give light unto thee,
But the Lord shall be unto thee an everlasting light,
And thy God thy glory.'

No pauper funeral there was simpler, for the same purple velvet pall with the red cross stretching its arms over the coffin in protection was used for the poorest; the plain oak only bore the name and date, and the brothers and friends bedizened themselves with no foolish gloomy streamers or scarfs, as they drew together to follow the farm-labourers who bore what remained of Felix from the steps of the hall door where, four years and a half before, he had spoken forth his purpose to live there to the glory of God and the good of his neighbour.

So he passed from the home he had never coveted, though he had loved it better than aught save the home beyond.

The Bishop of the diocese had desired to testify his esteem by welcoming him to the Rest of those who die in the Lord, and Clement was thus one of the eight brothers and sisters who followed first. The nearest of all was tacitly allowed to be Geraldine, upon his arm, while he led Gerald. Not only was the child his uncle's heir and head of the name, but Cherry and Lance found that to see and know all was best for him. Poor Edgar's wish that people could be sublimated away had been in a measure fulfilled in his case as regarded his little son, and the consequence had been a vague horror and mystery that had haunted him till he was led to gaze at and kiss his uncle's calm white face, and then, after long dreamy thought, he had said in a voice of comfort, 'Then Daddy was like that.' Kester was there, too, in his father's hand, awed but sharply observant. And besides these, and the nearest connections and friends, there was all the parish, farmers, tenants, labourers and all! Scarcely a cottage but rang with the lament, 'We, shall never have such another Squire;' almost every woman was sobbing with the infectious agitation of that class; the big lads, whom he had taught on many a Sunday and winter evening, were even more unrestrained in their grief, and many a rugged old labourer echoed the elegy, 'Well now I did reckon never to have seen the last of he, but the likes of him was too good for we. I never had a beast out of the ordinar but it was sure to go the first!'

Not only Vale Leston was there but almost all the gentry and fellow-magistrates, Sir Vesey Hammond's white head conspicuously, also a whole company of familiar Bexley faces. They had given no notice lest the family should put themselves to inconvenience, but there they all were, the Mayor, Mr. Bruce, Mr. Jones, Mr. Prothero, and many another also come with old Mr. Harewood and Ernest Lamb, who, poor fellow, looked as if the foundations of the earth had given way with him. The late Rector had written his excuses on the score of health, but Doctor Ryder was present, and Mr. Audley had been called out to speak to his old colleague Mowbray Smith, who had come many miles to testify his gratitude to 'the best friend and truest I ever met, though I was such a fool as not to know it at the time.' Of course the Vicar of St Matthew's had come early enough to join the family in the morning Sacrifice of thanksgiving, and as Robina moved on in the confused maze of sorrowful faces, she recognised the familiar head of Lord Ernest. It was as if Felix had left such a mark on all who came in contact with him, that none could abstain from testifying honour and gratitude, and yet it had been a very simple life. As he had said himself, he had done nothing but what he felt obliged to do. There was nothing however to which he had set his hand that was not in a better state than when he had taken it up.

So 'his works did follow him,' so had he 'served God in his generation'—as happy a fate as man can have, and those who were older than the bereaved brothers and sisters had learnt that however sad it seems to be cut off in the prime of life, with schemes of good all unfulfilled, yet it is like a general dying in the moment of victory, with the cup of tedium, failure, disappointment, and decadence all untasted.

It was a long procession that was met by the Bishop and his clergy, with the present Rector of Bexley and Mr. Colman of Ewmouth, and not only the Vale Leston choir, but many of those from St Oswald's. Well might Felix thus be greeted. Very few were the Sundays, since his father first had robed him in his little surplice and told him of Samuel, that he had not sung his part, he had not even had any long interval of broken voice, and had been retained during that time for the sake of his influence. Like everything else, his musical talent had been used primarily for the glory of his Maker.