"Come away, my darling," I whispered; "it is a funeral service."
She turned her eyes on me. "I must understand, I must see who it is. I shall go mad if you take me away now. I cannot bear any more."
We walked up the aisle, and placed ourselves as near as possible to the spot where the coffin lay, covered with flowers and with tapers burning about it. And we heard that music again, every note of it the same that each had heard before. And when the service was over I whispered to the sacristan—
"Whose music was that?"
"Our organist's," he answered; "it is the first time they've had it. Fine, wasn't it?"
"Who is the—who was—who is being buried?"
"A foreign gentleman, sir; they do say as his lady as was to be gave him the slip on his wedding day, and he'd given her father thousands they say, if the truth was known."
"But what was he doing here?"
"Well, that's the curious part, sir. To show his independence, what does he do but go the same tour he'd planned for his wedding trip. And there was a railway accident, and him and every one in his carriage killed in a twinkling, so to speak. Lucky for the young lady she was off with somebody else."
The sacristan laughed softly to himself.