Part 3, Chapter XXII.
Dark Days.
“Then he sat down, sad and speechless,
At the feet of Minnehaha—
At the feet of Laughing Water—
At those willing feet that never
More would lightly run to meet him,
Never more would lightly follow.
Then they buried Minnehaha.”
There was very little to be done at Redhurst during the few sad days that followed. Mysie’s fortune was inherited by a second cousin on her father’s side—a middle-aged clergyman, who had never seen her, and who was the father of a large young family, and the letter to announce her death to him was almost the only one of any imperative consequence as a matter of business, while it was a very simple statement of a flairs which Hugh must hand over to him when he came to the funeral, which was fixed for the Saturday morning. A heavier cloud could hardly have descended on any household; but Mrs Spencer Crichton was a person of strong nerves; and, deep and sincere as was her sorrow, it was not quite the desolation that it must have been had Mysie been her own child. She was able to stay with Arthur till his first agony had a little subsided, and he murmured something about “Hugh.”
“Do you want him, my dear?”
“No; but he will want you.”
“Oh yes, presently. Don’t you trouble yourself, Arty. You can tell us by-and-by if there is anything you wish. But I will go if you like to be alone. Shall I tell Hugh anything?”
Arthur felt quite incapable of any explanation; it was an effort even to think of Hugh; his grief was utterly crushing and overwhelming.