“Listen, dear! Hark, George! Only hear!” exclaimed Mildred and Ailwin.
“O hush! All of you!” exclaimed Oliver. “Be quiet, Mildred dear! Our little brother is dead.”
Roger threw himself on the grass, and hid his face on his arms. He moaned and rocked himself about, so that, even in the first moments of their grief, the brother and sister looked at each other with awe.
“Come away with me, dear,” whispered Oliver to his sister. “Ailwin, give George to me. Let me have him in my arms.”
“Bless you, my dears; it is not George any longer. It is a poor little dead body. You must not call it George.”
“Give him to me,” said Oliver. He took the body from Ailwin’s arms, carrying it as gently as if anything could have hurt it now; and he and Mildred walked away towards the spot where the bee-shed had stood. Ailwin gazed after them, dashing away the tears with the back of her hand, when they gathered so that she could not see.
Oliver and Mildred walked on till they could descend the bank a little, and sit, just above the waters, where they knew they were out of sight of everybody. This bank presented a strange appearance, such as the children had been wondering at for some days, till Ailwin remembered that she had often heard say that there was once a thick forest growing where the Levels were now spread, and that the old trees were, every one, somehow underground. It now appeared that this was true. As the earth was washed away in the channel, and cut down along the bank, large trunks of trees were seen lying along, black as coal. Some others started out of the bank; and the roots of a few spread like network, holding the soil together, and keeping the bank firm in that part. Upon one of the trunks, that jutted out, Oliver took his seat; and Mildred placed herself beside him.
“Let him lie on my knee now,” said she.
“Presently,” said Oliver. “How easy and quiet he looks!”
“And how quietly he died!” observed Mildred. “I did not think it had been such an easy thing to die,—or half so easy for us to bear to see.”