It was a terrible moment when the first clod of the valley fell on my sister’s coffin.  God sustained me under the shock!  I neither groaned nor wept.  When Mr. Hardinge returned the customary thanks to those who had assembled to assist me “in burying my dead out of my sight,” I had even sufficient fortitude to bow to the little crowd, and to walk steadily away.  It is true, that John Wallingford very kindly took my arm to sustain me, but I was not conscious of wanting any support.  I heard the sobs of the blacks as they crowded around the grave, which the men among them insisted on filling with their own hands, as if “Miss Grace” could only rest with their administration to her wants; and I was told not one of them left the spot until the place had resumed all the appearance of freshness and verdure which it possessed before the spade had been applied.  The same roses, removed with care, were restored to their former beds; and it would not have been easy for a stranger to discover that a new-made grave lay by the side of those of the late Captain Miles Wallingford and his much-respected widow.  Still it was known to all in that vicinity, and many a pilgrimage was made to the spot within the next fortnight, the young maidens of the adjoining farms in particular coming to visit the grave of Grace Wallingford, the “Lily of Clawbonny,” as she had once been styled.

Chapter IX.

  “I knew that we must part—­no power could save
  Thy quiet goodness from an early grave: 
  Those eyes so dull, though kind each glance they cast,
  Looking a sister’s fondness to the last;
  Thy lips so pale, that gently press’d my cheek;
  Thy voice—­alas!  Thou could’st but try to speak;—­
  All told thy doom; I felt it at my heart;
  The shaft had struck—­I knew that we must part.”

  Sprague.

It is not easy to describe the sensation of loss that came over me after the interment of my sister.  It is then we completely feel the privation with which we have met.  The body is removed from out of our sight; the places that knew them shall know them no more; there is an end to all communion, even by the agency of sight, the last of the senses to lose its hold on the departed, and a void exists in the place once occupied.  I felt all this very keenly, for more than a month, but most keenly during the short time I remained at Clawbonny.  The task before me, however, will not allow me to dwell on these proofs of sorrow, nor do I know that the reader could derive much advantage from their exhibition.

I did not see Rupert at the funeral.  That he was there I knew, but either he, himself, or Lucy for him, had managed so well, as not to obtrude his person on my sight.  John Wallingford, who well knew my external or visible relation to all the Hardinges, thinking to do me a pleasure, mentioned, as the little procession returned to the house, that young Mr. Hardinge had, by dint of great activity, succeeded in reaching Clawbonny in time for the funeral.  I fancy that Lucy, under the pretence of wishing his escort, contrived to keep her brother at the rectory during the time I was abroad.