And now the quaint country funeral was past, the cakes had been eaten, and after seeing, as well as he could, to his father’s affairs, Luke had said his farewells to those who were only too eager to manifest their hearty goodwill.
The vehicle that was to take him to the station was waiting at his door, and he stepped in with his portmanteau, Portlock being the driver; and then, with a rattle of hoofs and a whirr of wheels, they crossed the marketplace, followed by a hearty cheer, while at door after door as they passed there were townspeople waving hands and kerchiefs, till the dog-cart was out of sight.
Luke could not help feeling moved at the manifestations of friendliness, though, at the same time, he smiled, and thought of how strange these quaint, old-style ways of the people, far removed from the civilising influence of the railway, seemed to him after his long sojourn in the metropolis.
As he thought, he recalled the solemn processions of hearses and mourning coaches, with velvet and plumes, and trampling black, long-tailed horses, common in London; and in his then mood he could not help comparing them with the funeral of the week before, when six of his fellow-townsmen lifted old Michael Ross’s coffin by the handles, and bore it between them, hanging at arm’s length, through the town, with the church choir, headed by their leader, singing a funeral hymn.
There seemed something far more touching and appealing to the senses in these simple old country ways; and as Luke Ross pondered on them his spirit was very low.
The Churchwarden respected his silence, and did not speak save to his horse, a powerful beast that trotted sharply; and so they went on till Luke was roused from his reverie by the sudden check by the roadside.
He might have been prepared for it if he had given the matter a thought, but he had been too much wrapped up in his troubles to think that if they were to pick up Mrs Cyril Mallow on the road it would probably be at the end of this lane.
It came to him now, though, like a shock, as Portlock drew rein, and Luke recalled like a flash how, all those years ago, he had leaped down from the coach light-hearted and eager, to follow the course of the lane, picking the scattered wild flowers as he went, till he came upon the scene which seemed to blast his future life.
But there was no time for further thought, and he drove away these fancies of the past as he leaped down and assisted Sage Mallow, who was waiting closely veiled with her aunt, to mount into the seat beside her uncle, while he took the back.
Then a brief farewell was taken, all present being too full of their own thoughts to speak, and almost in silence they drove over to the county town, where one of the old farmer’s men had preceded them with the luggage, and was in waiting to bring back the horse.