To that last nothing under earth.
All eyes were turned to the entrance as Stephen spoke,and the ancient-mannered conclave scrutinized him inquiringly.
Why,tis our Stephen!said his father,rising from his seat;and,still retaining the frothy mug in his left hand,he swung forward his right for a grasp.Your mother is expecting ye--
thought you would have come afore dark.But youll wait and go home with me?I have all but done for the day,and was going directly.
Yes,tis Master Stephy,sure enough.Glad to see you so soon again,Master Smith,said Martin Cannister,chastening the gladness expressed in his words by a strict neutrality of countenance,in order to harmonize the feeling as much as possible with the solemnity of a family vault.
The same to you,Martin;and you,William,said Stephen,nodding around to the rest,who,having their mouths full of bread and cheese,were of necessity compelled to reply merely by compressing their eyes to friendly lines and wrinkles.
And who is dead?Stephen repeated.
Lady Luxellian,poor gentlewoman,as we all shall,said the under-mason.Ay,and we be going to enlarge the vault to make room for her.
When did she die?
Early this morning,his father replied,with an appearance of recurring to a chronic thought.Yes,this morning.Martin hev been tolling ever since,almost.There,twas expected.She was very limber.
Ay,poor soul,this morning,resumed the under-mason,a marvellously old man,whose skin seemed so much too large for his body that it would not stay in position.She must know by this time whether shes to go up or down,poor woman.
What was her age?
Not more than seven or eight and twenty by candlelight.But,Lord!by day a was forty if a were an hour.
Ay,night-time or day-time makes a difference of twenty years to rich feymels,observed Martin.
She was one and thirty really,said John Smith.I had it from them that know.
Not more than that!
A looked very bad,poor lady.In faith,ye might say she was dead for years afore a would own it.
As my old father used to say,"dead,but wouldnt drop down."
I seed her,poor soul,said a labourer from behind some removed coffins,only but last Valentines-day of all the world.A was arm in crook wimy lord.I says to myself,"You be ticketed Churchyard,my noble lady,although you dont dream ont."
I suppose my lord will write to all the other lords anointed in the nation,to let em know that she that was is now no more?
Tis done and past.I see a bundle of letters go off an hour after the death.Sich wonderful black rims as they letters had--
half-an-inch wide,at the very least.
Too much,observed Martin.In short,tis out of the question that a human being can be so mournful as black edges half-an-inch wide.Im sure people dont feel more than a very narrow border when they feels most of all.
And there are two little girls,are there not?said Stephen.
Nice clane little faces!--left motherless now.
They used to come to Parson Swancourts to play with Miss Elfride when I were there,said William Worm.Ah,they did sos!The latter sentence was introduced to add the necessary melancholy to a remark which,intrinsically,could hardly be made to possess enough for the occasion.Yes,continued Worm,theyd run upstairs,theyd run down;flitting about with her everywhere.
Very fond of her,they were.Ah,well!
Fonder than ever they were of their mother,so tis said here and there,added a labourer.
Well,you see,tis natural.Lady Luxellian stood aloof from em so--was so drowsy-like,that they couldnt love her in the jolly-companion way children want to like folks.Only last winter I seed Miss Elfride talking to my lady and the two children,and Miss Elfride wiped their noses for emSO careful--my lady never once seeing that it wanted doing;and,naturally,children take to people thats their best friend.
Be as twill,the woman is dead and gone,and we must make a place for her,said John.Come,lads,drink up your ale,and well just rid this corner,so as to have all clear for beginning at the wall,as soon as tis light to-morrow.
Stephen then asked where Lady Luxellian was to lie.
Here,said his father.We are going to set back this wall and make a recess;and tis enough for us to do before the funeral.
When my lords mother died,she said,"John,the place must be enlarged before another can be put in."But a never expected twould be wanted so soon.Better move Lord George first,I suppose,Simeon?
He pointed with his foot to a heavy coffin,covered with what had originally been red velvet,the colour of which could only just be distinguished now.
Just as ye think best,Master John,replied the shrivelled mason.Ah,poor Lord George!he continued,looking contemplatively at the huge coffin;he and I were as bitter enemies once as any could be when one is a lord and tother only a mortal man.Poor fellow!Hed clap his hand upon my shoulder and cuss me as familial and neighbourly as if hed been a common chap.
Ay,a cussed me up hill and a cussed me down;and then a would rave out again,and the goold clamps of his fine new teeth would glisten in the sun like fetters of brass,while I,being a small man and poor,was fain to say nothing at all.Such a strappen fine gentleman as he was too!Yes,I rather liked en sometimes.
But once now and then,when I looked at his towering height,Id think in my inside,"What a weight youll be,my lord,for our arms to lower under the aisle of Endelstow Church some day!"
And was he?inquired a young labourer.
He was.He was five hundredweight if a were a pound.What with his lead,and his oak,and his handles,and his one thing and tother--here the ancient man slapped his hand upon the cover with a force that caused a rattle among the bones inside--he half broke my back when I took his feet to lower en down the steps there."Ah,"saith I to John there--didnt I,John?--"that ever one mans glory should be such a weight upon another man!"But there,I liked my lord George sometimes.
