"Oh no; her bright, living face is the memory that I would have of her."
So it was the rector who carried up the flowers to the room where Kitty lay, and placed the wreath at her feet; and the arums framed the sweet, smiling face, and the card with its message of love was laid upon her breast, with the murmured prayer that the one who loved Kitty might learn to love Kitty's God.
All the villagers that were able attended Kitty's funeral two days later, drawn there by love and sympathy. Paul was there with Sally, sitting down in the belfry, close to the spot where Kitty's carriage had been placed upon the only other occasion when Paul had attended a service in Rudham church.
"If there is any meaning at all in the service, it is appropriate for Kitty," was the reason he had assigned to Sally for accompanying her. It seemed like a beautiful dream to him: the church nearly filled with people, the fragrance of the flowers as the little white coffin was carried into church headed by the rector and the choir, who sang, as they led the way to the chancel, the words of a hymn quite unfamiliar to Paul, and a few lines of which sounded clearly in his ears as they passed him.
"Death will be to slumber
In that sweet embrace,
And we shall awaken
To behold His Face."
Only one person followed the little coffin, and that was the nurse, who had loved Kitty as devotedly as any mother. The door behind Paul was gently pushed open after the service had begun, and he was vividly conscious of the presence of the woman he loved the best in the world—May Webster. She was dressed in black, and sank upon her knees by Sally's side. The intense sympathy of her expression made her look more beautiful than ever, giving the touch of softness that her features sometimes lacked. Throughout the service the rector's brave, strong voice never faltered, and it rose and fell with the others in Psalm and hymn. He seemed, for the time being, borne aloft upon the wings of faith and love; but when, the service ended, Paul made his way back to the church to fetch his hat, which he had accidently left behind him, he caught a glimpse of a white-robed figure prostrate before the altar, and the frame was convulsed with sobs. Nature must have her way; and not even the rector could at once bring his will into perfect submission with the will of God. His darling was taken from his sight, and his heart was aching over the dreary years that might intervene before he could see her again. There was a lump in Paul's throat as he noiselessly left the church. May and Sally waited for him.
"It's heart-breaking," said May, putting her hand into his. "I was bound to come."
"You return to London to-night, I suppose? You will come and have tea with us on your way, won't you?" said Sally, eagerly.
"I will come to tea. But I am not going back at present; I told mother I should stay down here for a little while, until all this trouble had passed away; it cannot be right that we should be doing nothing to help. I only wish I had come in time to see that little girl alive again."
Sally had moved away to help to arrange the flowers on the newly-filled-in grave, and Paul stood a little apart by May's side.