Eletheer opened the door of Mary’s room just as Margaret passed. Her patient was sleeping, and, throwing her arms around Margaret’s neck, she whispered through tears which fell thick and fast,—“Oh, Margaret, and his last act was saving our lives!” Margaret could not speak. Unlike her husband, she did not accept afflictions meekly and her heart was full of bitterness now as she thought of her poor stricken “baby” who had first to hear the dreadful news. “Po’ baby to t’ink dat dis awful t’ing mus’ happen to yo’ w’en yo’s jes’ stayin’ at de ole home to be wif Massa Jack!” Margaret threw herself on the floor in an excess of emotion and, fearing she would wake Mary, Eletheer tapped on the door of Elisha’s room well knowing Reuben’s soothing influence. He had finished his sad duties and, true to the time-honored custom, was “watching.” One quick glance at the face with its look of peace, and, bidding Reuben go to Margaret and Celeste, she flew back to her charge.
The news of Elisha’s death had spread like wildfire. Always courteous and just, no one could criticise had he been so inclined, and his uniformly gentle bearing, that was a part of himself, won for him a reverential respect from all the miners.
The shock caused by Elisha’s death had stirred them deeply; and a delegation to express sympathy and a desire that they might be of service waited on the young wife now prostrated with grief, though providentially under her father’s roof where she had come to stay at the old home during her brother Jack’s visit North.
From all over the valley came words of condolence that showed how deeply Elisha was identified with its material growth; resolutions of respect from the different orders, and though Elisha’s religious views were not generally known, regardless of denomination, the pastor of every church in the city felt that its present sound financial condition was largely through his instrumentality.
At the door Watson received all messages. “How different,” he thought, “is the ending of this life from that of Mills!” He had come North with bitterness in his heart, and the pity which he was prepared to bestow on this villain’s victim had long been transferred to Mills himself. Tim Watson would return to Texas with a broader view of justice.
Three days later, Elisha Vedder was buried from the Reformed Church. This beautiful old building had been carefully preserved and the great concourse of people there gathered to participate in the last sad rights over Elisha Vedder’s remains saw the edifice still unchanged. Every seat was taken, and the aisles, vestibule and even the churchyard were crowded.
Floral offerings, on account of Elisha’s oft-expressed fondness for the mountain laurel, were simply great mounds of the green leaves and waxy, rose-colored blossoms.
A few friends accompanied Dominie Leyden, pastor of the church, to The Laurels. There, after a short prayer, the remains, followed by the miners in a body, were taken to the church where the active pall-bearers were waiting at the entrance and through the cleared passage-way, the plain oaken casket was carried up the steps, through the right aisle into the chancel and laid down before a wall of laurel blossoms.
The burial service was very simple. No eulogy—his acts were apparent. “Nearer My God to Thee,” was sung by the choir. A few well-chosen words by the officiating clergyman, and the casket was borne to the old Dutch burying-ground.