“Oh! thank you! thank you!” exclaimed Clara, between her sobs. “I shall be most grateful—do whatever you think best.”
Mr Lerew retired; and after a conversation of some length with Miss Pemberton he drove away. Clara—so absorbing was her grief—could with difficulty regain her power of thought. She felt alone in the world. Had General Caulfield been at home, she would have had him to consult; but she had no confidence in her Aunt Sarah’s judgment, though she had of late been more guided by her than she was aware of.
“Our excellent vicar and I have arranged everything,” said Miss Pemberton, on entering the room some time afterwards; “so do not further trouble yourself about the matter.”
Clara expressed her thanks to her aunt. Completely prostrate, she remained in bed. Workmen sent by the vicar came to the house, and were employed for some time in her father’s room. She dared not inquire what they were about. At length she arose and dressed. She felt a longing desire once more to gaze on those dear features. She inquired whether she might go to the room.
“Oh, yes, miss,” was the answer. “It’s all done up on purpose, and looks so grand.”
She hurried on, and, entering, what was her astonishment to find the room draped in black, the windows closed, and several long wax candles arranged round the bed on which her father’s body lay, dressed in his naval uniform. She approached, and leant over the bed, on which, after standing gazing at his features for some minutes, she sank down with her arms extended, almost fainting. At that instant the vicar appeared at the doorway.
“What a lovely picture!” he whispered, as if to himself; “can anything surpass it?”
Clara heard him, and had still strength sufficient to rise.
“We have done what we can to do honour to your father,” he said, advancing and taking her hand. “Had General Caulfield been present, we should have been prevented from making these arrangements; and I lay all the blame of Captain Maynard’s neglect of the sacred ordinances on him, as I am sure it will be laid at the day of judgment; therefore, my sweet young lady, I would urge you to mourn not as those without hope. I come to console and sympathise with you. Let me lead you from the room, as others are anxious to pay their last respects to your parent; it will be trying to your feelings to receive them.”
Clara submitted, and was led by the vicar into the drawing-room, where she found her aunt. Mr Lerew now became more cheerful in his conversation, and spoke of his new college, and of a society of Anglican sisters of mercy, in which he was deeply interested. He enlarged on their pious, self-denying labours, so admirably adapted to distract the minds of the sorrowing from worldly cares and the thoughts of the past, and the charming qualities of the lady superior, and of the calm happiness enjoyed by all under her rule.