CHAPTER XV.
A BITTER SORROW.
“Nota Kaholthay, Jesus Christ, Notyanayne neoltze nogahneayta Tattaahyenay naso noayl nahnathath doko eethlahse choo. Amen. (The grace of our Lord, etc.)” The words broke the solemn silence in the distinct but tremulous voice of a young girl; a voice trembling with earnestness as the benedictory blessing passed her lips, every tone filled with suppressed anguish, revealing the agony of a broken heart.
The scene was as solemnly impressive as the words; two open graves rudely hewn from the hard-frozen earth—accomplished by infinite labor after burning fires over the spots for hours—one of them empty while the other revealed a shapeless, undefinable bundle in its cold depths. Beside this one stood three dark muffled figures, sharply outlined against the perpendicular face of rocks. The central figure, the speaker, one of the most touching sights on God’s fair earth—was a girl bowed by a great, an overwhelming sorrow, a girl in whose eyes dwelt a look of unutterable despair. This was Kasba; not the young, lovingly-impulsive girl of yesterday, but a girl-woman, a woman of steady and implacable purpose, with feelings so lacerated in the last twenty-four hours that she had grown numb with pain. Horror upon horror had fallen upon her until further grief could no longer be felt.
On her left was the unmistakable figure of Sahanderry. He stood rigidly erect with eyes fixed sorrowfully on the shadowy object at the bottom of the grave. Tears streamed unchecked down his cheeks and violent sobs convulsed his frame. Venturing to raise his eyes at the girl’s concluding words, he threw her a hasty glance; her unnatural composure puzzled him. With a pathetically resigned air she closed the book from which she had been reading, and slowly advancing to the edge of the grave, stood silently gazing into it. The despairing agony in her face was pitiable, for the grave held all that was mortal of her beloved father.
Inconceivably strange it is that Delgezie, being on the outside of the house, should have been killed, while Sahanderry, who lay close to the seat of the explosion, had escaped with his life, in fact was almost uninjured except for being badly scorched and thoroughly shaken. It would be hard to explain this, or any part of the seemingly miraculous events that followed this disaster. Even the sanest reasoning would fail to convince. The natural inference was that the gunpowder-keg had not sufficient resistance to cause the devastating combustion the incident would lead one to expect and that Delgezie had been killed by some flying object hurtled through the air by the force of the explosion—but this was supposition.
Beside the girl, and completely overcome with grief, was the boy David. He was sobbing audibly.
Stepping back from the grave, Kasba signed to her companions to fill it in. This was the signal for Sahanderry to give full vent to his lamentations while he dropped clods of frozen earth reverently into the hole. These were instantly followed by the sound of dull thuds. Kasba started at the gruesome noise, a startled cry escaped her, but she displayed no further sign of emotion. Stunned and dazed, she stood silently watching the work go on.
The task completed, Sahanderry and David, overcoming their more violent grief, turned to the girl for orders, but remained discreetly silent. Kasba was gazing fixedly at the grave as if her eyes could penetrate the hard, flint-like earth to where the body of her father lay beneath. Suddenly she tottered forward and, uttering a low, despairing cry, fell on her knees.
“Ay, setah! setah! (Oh, father, father!)” she moaned, with her face pressed to the icy clods. She remained in this attitude for some time wrestling with a feeling of unutterable loneliness.
Her companions scarcely breathed. Presently she kissed the hard sod, rose quickly and turned slowly away.