"A heap,
To make men tremble, that never weep."
What! if our swimming eye--as we follow those dear--dear remains to their last lone resting place--glance on the heartless myrmidons, who salute the passer by with nods of recognition, and smiles of indifference?
What! if, returning homewards--choked with bitter recollections, which rise fantastic, quick, and ill-defined--the very ghosts of departed scenes and years--what if we start as we then perceive you--lightsome of heart, and glib of speech--clustered and smirking, on that roof of nodding plumes--neath which, one short hour since--lay what was dearest to us on earth?
Let us not heed these things! for--light as is the task to traders in death's dark trappings; painful and soul-subduing are those withering details to the grieving and heart-struck mourner!
We left George lying half insensible by the side of his dead wife.
Sir Henry and Thompson carried him to the apartment of the former, and while Thompson hung over his master, attempting to restore consciousness--Delmé had a short conference with Doctor Pormont as to their ulterior proceedings.
Doctor Pormont--as might be expected--enjoined the greatest promptitude, and recommended that poor Acmé's remains, should be consigned to the burial place of the hamlet.
George's objections to this, however, as soon as he was well enough to comprehend what was going forward, seemed quite insurmountable; and after Sir Henry had sought the place by moonlight, and found it wild and open, with goats browsing on the unpicturesque graves, and with nothing to mark the sanctity of the spot, save a glaring painted picture of the Virgin, his own prejudices became enlisted, and he consented to proceed to Rome.
After this decision was made, he found it utterly impossible, to procure a separate conveyance for the corpse; and was equally unsuccessful in his attempt to procure that--which from being a common want, he had been disposed to consider of every day attainment--a coffin.
While his brother made what arrangements he best might, poor George returned to the chamber of death, and gazed long and fixedly--with the despair of the widower--on those hushed familiar features.