"May Coral go too, papa?" asked Beryl eagerly.
"Yes, I suppose so, if the child likes to go," he said, shrugging his shoulders at the idea of his taking charge of two children; "but perhaps she would rather stay with her mother?"
And upon Lucy's being consulted, it was thought better that Coral should stay at home, so that Mrs. Despard might have her child's company, if she wished for it.
Miss Hollys had decided that she was "not equal" to church that morning, so Beryl set out alone with her father.
They walked through the village and up the steep road to the church. The day was bright, and though a boisterous breeze blew from the sea, neither Beryl nor Mr. Hollys thought it too rough. Despite the fineness of the weather, there was but a small congregation gathered in the church, for the clergyman very old man and a dull preacher, so that most of the fisher-folk preferred to worship in the Methodist chapel at the foot of the hill.
Beryl seldom paid much attention to the service when she was at church. She liked the singing well enough, though it was often trying to cultivated ears, but the rest of the service was wearisome to her. She had devised a number of little diversions for her entertainment whilst the lessons were being read, or the sermon, which Mr. Trevor did not attempt to deliver with expression, but read in a hurried, indistinct monotone, with the manuscript held close to his failing eyes. Sometimes Beryl would occupy herself in counting the tiny diamond panes in the large window opposite to her father's pew, or she would endeavour to count the congregation, with a view to ascertaining whether there were more men than women, or more women than men in the church. This question decided, she would perhaps have recourse to studying the mural tablets about her, and trying to gather from the descriptions they gave some idea of what the deceased were like when they walked this earth. Or she would take some long word, such as remembrance or commandment and try how many little words she could make out of the letters.
But to-day, as she sat by her father's side in the large square pew, Beryl used none of these devices for passing away the time. Her mind was full of thoughts of Coral and her mother, and of the sad burial in the churchyard which she had seen yesterday. Somehow these thoughts led her to pay more attention to the service than she generally did. She bent her head over her Prayer-book, and tried to follow the clergyman and to join with the congregation in the responses. When the Apostles' Creed was repeated, Beryl became aware of what she had not before observed,—the fact that the words with which the confession of faith ended were the same as those inscribed on her mother's tombstone. She looked up eagerly at her father as she made this discovery, and he caught the meaning of her glance, for his thoughts too had flown to that marble cross as he repeated the familiar words.
This incident sent Beryl wondering again about the resurrection. How she longed to know what it meant! Was it anything very hard and difficult, she wondered?
When the text of the sermon was announced, Mr. Hollys found the place, and handed Beryl his Bible, that she might read the words. Now Beryl often refused to read the text when Lucy wished her to do so, but she could not behave in that way to her father; so she took the book and slowly read the words, without in the least grasping their meaning, however. She kept the Bible on her lap, and began carelessly turning over the leaves. Suddenly her eye lighted on the word the meaning of which so perplexed her. What was said about it here? The leaves had opened at the eleventh chapter of St. John's Gospel, and the words which met her eager glance were the ever-memorable ones,—
"Jesus said unto her, 'I am the resurrection and the life.'"