She pointed to the name with her sickle.
"Yes, I know all that that can tell me. But who was Elizabeth Purcill?—what relation was she to me?—and how came she to die so young, and to be buried here?"
"Why do you think I should know?" she replied. "People often die young; and no matter where the Purcills die, they all wish to come here at last;—that one died in Cuba,—that in France,—that in Greece,—and that at sea." And she turned her hand towards them, as she spoke.
"But you do not care for their graves; look, how the grass and weeds nod over that tombstone; and you would not clear this, unless you knew something about the girl that lies underneath it."
"It is an old story," said she, with a sigh, "and I can tell you but little of it." She laid her sickle down on the cut grass and sat down by it.
"Elizabeth Purcill was the daughter of your grandfather's brother, and therefore your father's cousin. Long as I have lived in the family, I never saw him; for he went to India, while a young man, to seek a fortune, which was found too late to benefit either himself or his children. Elizabeth, his eldest daughter, was sent home for her education, and lived first with one of her kinsfolk, and then another, as her father's whims or their convenience dictated. You remember, though so young, when your Aunt Eleanor came to your father's house on her way to your Uncle Erasmus in his last illness?"
Bradford nodded.
"A little before that time Elizabeth Purcill came to Ashcroft. She was a pretty, lively girl, and it was pleasant to see in our sober household one who had time to be idle and could laugh. Your Aunt Eleanor was always a busy woman,—busier then than she is now,—and had no time for mirth. Every servant in the house liked Miss Elizabeth for her sunny smile and her pleasant ways. Shortly afterwards, Thornton Lee came home. He had been three years in Africa, and he and your aunt were to be married in the autumn.
"When Miss Purcill went away, Mr. Lee remained, and came often to see Miss Elizabeth. She had a winsome face, that few men could look upon and not love; and I sometimes thought, when I saw them together, how much better she was suited to Mr. Lee than your Aunt Eleanor, and wondered if he had not found it out himself. Your aunt was away a long time, and, by some mistake, the letter, saying that she was coming home, did not reach us till the day after her arrival.
"It was a beautiful October afternoon. I had been gathering the grapes that grew on the garden wall, and was carrying a basket of them to Miss Elizabeth, whom I had seen, half an hour before, with Mr. Lee, on the lawn. As I was crossing the hall, Miss Purcill, dressed in deep mourning, looking ghastly pale, entered the front door. I started as if I had seen a ghost, and dropped my basket. Miss Eleanor passed me quickly and went up-stairs. I spoke to her. She did not answer, but, entering her chamber, fastened the door behind her.