He came out again with a sober face. The silversmith came too, rubbing his hands as if he were not ill satisfied with his bargain. He wished the farmer good day, and the mare jogged steadily back to Huntsdean.
But Rhoda learnt, long afterwards, that the money for which the jewels were sold did not go to Mr. Elton. It went towards the maintenance of Helen’s child.
CHAPTER VIII.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE FARM PURCHASED BY ONE RALPH CHANNELL.
Eight years passed away. In Huntsdean churchyard the grass had grown over Helen’s grave, covering up the bare, brown earth, as new interests cover an old sorrow.
Little Nelly had never realized her loss. It contented her to know that her mother had been laid to rest in a sweet place, and would rise again some day when the Lord called her. She always hoped that Helen might rise in the spring, and find the primroses blooming round her pretty grave. She might have fancied that, like Keats, her mother could “feel the flowers growing over her.” Children and poets often have the same fancies.
November had come again; and with it came a new anxiety.