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Page 22
In the cold sweetness of the following dawn, the squire returned from
Up-Hill. "Barf is gone, Alice," were his first words.
"But all is well, William."
"No doubt of it. I met the rector on the hillside. 'How is Barf?' I
asked; and he answered, 'Thank God, he has the mastery!' Then he went on
without another word. Barf had lost his sight when I got there; but he
knew my voice, and he asked me to lay my face against his face. 'I've
done well to Sandal,--well to Sandal,' he muttered at intervals.
'You'll know it some day, William.' I can't think what he meant. I hope
he hasn't left me any money. I could not take it, Alice."
"Was that all?"
"When Steve came in he said something like 'Charlotte,' and he looked
hard at me; and then again, 'I've done well by Sandal.' But I was too
late. Ducie said he had been very restless about me earlier in the
afternoon: he was nearly outside life when I got there. We thought he
would speak no more; but about three o'clock this morning he called
quite clearly, '_Ducie, the abbot's cross_.' Then Ducie unlocked the oak
chest that stands by the bed-side, and took from it an ivory crucifix.
She put it in his left hand. With a smile he touched the Christ upon it;
and so, clasping the abbot's cross, he died."
"I wonder at that, William. A better Church-of-England man was not in
all the dales than Barf Latrigg."
"Ay; but you see, Alice, that cross is older than the Church of England.
It was given to the first Latrigg of Up-Hill by the first abbot of
Furness. Before the days of Wyckliffe and Latimer, every one of them,
babe and hoary-head, died with it in their hands. There are things that
go deeper down than creeds, Alice; and the cross with the Saviour on it
is one of them. I would like to feel it myself, even when I was past
seeing it. I would like to take the step between here and there with it
in my hands."
In the cool of the afternoon, Julius and the girls went to Up-Hill. He
had a solemn curiousness about death; and both personally and
theoretically the transition filled him with vague, momentous ideas,
relating to all sides of his conscious being. In every land where he had
sojourned, the superstitions and ceremonials that attended it were
subjects of interest to him. So he was much touched when he entered the
deep, cool porch, and saw the little table at the threshold, covered
with a white linen cloth, and holding a plate of evergreens and a
handful of salt. And when Sophia and Charlotte each scattered a little
salt upon the ground, and broke off a small spray of boxwood, he knew
instinctively that they were silently expressing their faith in the
preservation of the body, and in the life everlasting; and he imitated
them in the simple rite.
Ducie met them with a grave and tender pleasure. "Come, and see the
empty soul-case," she said softly; "there is nothing to fear you." And
she led them into the chamber where it lay. The great bed was white as a
drift of snow. On the dark oak walls, there were branches of laurel and
snowberry. The floor was fragrant under the feet, with bits of rosemary,
and bruised ears of lavender, and leaves of thyme. The casements were
wide open to admit the fresh mountain breeze; and at one of them Steve
rested in the carved chair that had been his grandfather's, and was now
his own.
The young men did not know each other; but this was neither the time nor
the place for social civilities, and they only slightly bowed as their
eyes met. Indeed, it seemed wrong to trouble the peaceful silence with
mere words of courtesy; but Charlotte gave her hand to Stephen, and with
it that candid, loving gaze, which has, from the eyes of the beloved,
the miraculous power of turning the water of life into wine. And
Charlotte perceived this, and she went home happy in the happiness she
had given.
Four days later, Barf Latrigg was buried. In the glory of the August
afternoon, the ladies of Seat-Sandal stood with Julius in the shadow of
the park gates, and watched the long procession winding slowly down the
fells. At first it was accompanied by fitful, varying gusts of solemn
melody; but as it drew nearer, the affecting tones of the funeral hymn
became more and more distinct and sustained. There were at least three
hundred voices thrilling the still, warm air with its pathetic music;
and, as they approached the church gates, it blended itself with the
heavy tread of those who carried and of those who followed the dead,
like a wonderful, triumphant march.
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