Entering the lonely hut she dropped into a seat and remained in an attitude of deep despondency with eyes fixed upon the floor. The entrance of her sorrowing companions passed entirely unnoticed.
Taking pains to make no unnecessary noise, Sahanderry first attended to the fire, then seated himself in a gloomy corner, and from this vantage-ground watched the sorrow-stricken girl. David sank on the floor at Kasba’s feet, crouching with his head pressed tightly against her knee, and without raising her eyes the girl dropped her hand upon his head and let it rest there in sympathy.
Time dragged on. Deepening shadows crept across the room, gradually enveloping all objects in dismal gloom. The solemn ticking of the clock sounded vastly disproportionate and seemed in the melancholy silence to vibrate with the hum and noise of some mighty machine.
Throughout these dreary hours Kasba sat mute and desolate, taking no heed of time, battling with a confused sense of irreparable loss.
Completely stunned by the succession of terrible shocks, she had been too bewildered to fully understand the significance of the solemn service she had read at the grave-side. The bitter fact that her father was dead and that she had buried him that afternoon filled all her mind, and for the first time in her life her never-failing consolation was denied her. She could not pray, and she was disconsolate indeed, for there was no other comfort in earth or heaven.
“When some beloved voice that was to you
Both sound and sweetness, faileth suddenly
And silence, against which you dare not cry,
Aches round you like a strong disease and new—
What hope? what help? what music will undo