The only thing she was uneasy about was lest they should discover that she was not really dead and would not bury her. Life must have been very bitter to her, inasmuch as she felt no fear of death whatever.
But no one discovered that she was living. She was conveyed to the church, carried to the churchyard, and lowered into the grave.
The grave, however, was not filled in; she had been buried before the service on Sunday morning, as was the custom at Raglanda. The mourners had gone into church after the funeral, and the coffin was left in the open grave; but as soon as the service was over they would come back, and help the grave-digger to fill in the grave.
The young girl knew everything that happened, but felt no fear. She had not been able to make the slightest movement to show that she was alive, even if she had wanted to; but even if she had been able to move, she would not have done so; the whole time she was happy because she was as good as dead.
But, on the other hand, one could hardly say that she was alive. She had neither the use of her mind nor of her senses. It was only that part of the soul which dreams dreams during the night that was still living within her.
She could not even think enough to realize how terrible it would be for her to awake when the grave was filled in. She had no more power over her mind than has one who dreams.
'I should like to know,' she thought, 'if there is anything in the whole wide world that could make me wish to live.'
As soon as that thought rushed through her it seemed to her as if the lid of the coffin, and the handkerchief which had been placed over her face, became transparent, and she saw before her riches and beautiful raiment, and lovely gardens with delicious fruits.
'No, I do not care for any of these things,' she said, and she closed her eyes for their glories.
When she again looked up they had disappeared, but instead she saw quite distinctly a little angel of God sitting on the edge of the grave.