There was a great crowd out to attend the funeral of Abelard Lyle, and, long before the hour appointed for the services, Mrs. Fordham’s cottage was filled to overflowing, as were also the yard and street in front, and it was with some difficulty the Schuyler family could make their way through the dense mass of people.
They came late, and little Godfrey had a knot of crape upon his arm, while Mrs. Schuyler wore a black silk, with no shade of color to relieve her sallow face, and she looked, with her high-bred city air, very much out of place, and very much bored, too, as if she wished it well over, and wondered why her husband should take so much trouble for a poor young man, and an entire stranger. And yet Lady Emily was not without kindly feelings, and she felt very grateful to Abelard Lyle, and very sorry that he should have lost his life in saving that of her son; and, at her husband’s suggestion, she had been to the cottage the day before to see that everything was right, and had spoken civilly to Mrs. Fordham, and asked for some more roses, saying:
“I have had some once to-day. I was driving by just before the terrible accident, and saw such a lovely young girl,—your daughter, I suppose?”
“Yes, my daughter,” Mrs. Fordham replied, a new hope rising within her that through the Schuylers Heloise might make her way to distinction.
Heloise had a headache, she said, else she would like so much for Mrs. Schuyler to see her, and she thanked her for speaking so kindly of her, and hoped she would call again when the funeral was over.
To all this Lady Emily pretended to listen and nod assent, and, when she had all the roses she cared for, she said good-morning, and went back to the hotel, where she recounted the particulars of her call to the English maid, with whom she was on very familiar terms.
“Such assurance,” she said, “as that woman has! Why, she talked to me as if I were her equal, and even asked me to call again. She wanted me to see her daughter,—that beautiful young girl whom we saw in our drive this morning. Did I tell you that is where they have taken the young man? I should not be surprised if he were the lover of the girl, only she looked so very young. It seems to me I must have seen her before.”
The appearance of Colonel Schuyler brought to an end the lady’s conversation with Janette, and turning to her husband, she asked where they were intending to bury the young man.
“In our own family lot,” was the reply; and then Lady Emily dropped the flowers she was arranging, and her eyes opened wider than their wont, and fixed themselves upon her husband with a look of incredulity as she said: “Why, Howard, you must be crazy! Surely there are places enough without putting him there.”
“Yes, I know; but, Emily, consider for a moment,—he saved our boy’s life, and I feel like paying him every possible respect, and have ordered his grave to be made just under the pine tree at the far side of the lot. There is room enough between for all the Schuylers who will ever be buried there.”