'Ah, it is strange;
but I recognize three of them as Endelstow men. Rather remarkable
this.'
Presently they began to come out, two and two; and under the rays
of the lamp they were seen to bear between them a light-coloured
coffin of satin-wood, brightly polished, and without a nail. The
eight men took the burden upon their shoulders, and slowly crossed
with it over to the gate.
Knight and Stephen went outside, and came close to the procession
as it moved off. A carriage belonging to the cortege turned round
close to a lamp. The rays shone in upon the face of the vicar of
Endelstow, Mr. Swancourt--looking many years older than when they
had last seen him. Knight and Stephen involuntarily drew back.
Knight spoke to a bystander. 'What has Mr. Swancourt to do with
that funeral?'
'He is the lady's father,' said the bystander.
'What lady's father?' said Knight, in a voice so hollow that the
man stared at him.
'The father of the lady in the coffin. She died in London, you
know, and has been brought here by this train. She is to be taken
home to-night, and buried to-morrow.'
Knight stood staring blindly at where the hearse had been; as if
he saw it, or some one, there. Then he turned, and beheld the
lithe form of Stephen bowed down like that of an old man. He took
his young friend's arm, and led him away from the light.
Chapter XL
'Welcome, proud lady.'
Half an hour has passed.
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