Eudora then quietly undressed, and lay down by her side, where she soon shared the same blessing of oblivion and repose.
The next day was one of great bustle in the house.
The parish officers, summoned by the troubled landlady, were early on the premises to take cognizance of the deceased and his necessities.
It was to be a parish funeral; there was absolutely no help for it. Mrs. Corder, after having paid her half year’s rent, had not five shillings left in the world; and as for credit—who in this world would credit a poor widow with thirteen children, even for a grave in a Christian churchyard!
Eudora was equally destitute of money and credit. Mr. Montrose, in remembering everything else, had forgotten to supply her with funds. And thus the heiress of Allworth Abbey had not so much as a crown left in her purse. A fugitive and a stranger, she dared not ask for credit, even if there had been a chance of her obtaining it.
Thus it happened that the father of Annella was obliged to be buried at the expense of the parish.
In such burials there is no reverent delay, no long lying out; no funeral feast; no train of mourners; all is plain, cheap, and expeditious. The coffin was sent in the same morning, and the interment was ordered for the afternoon.
Annella heard of this arrangement with a stony resignation.
“He will not feel it,” she said; “and as for me it does not matter.”
When the hasty parish funeral was over, there was a talk among the parish officers of sending the young girl for the present to the union, until some other disposition could be made of her, and this was opposed by Mrs. Corder with all her heart and soul.