Martha loved God. They who love God will find their way back to
Him, dear Jane."
The next day there was no factory bell. Nearly the whole village was
massed in Hatton churchyard, and towards sunset the crowd made a little
lane for the small white coffin to the open grave waiting for it. None
of the women of the family were present. They had made their parting in
the familiar room that seemed, even at that distracting hour, full of
Martha's dear presence. But Jane, sitting afterwards at its open window,
heard the soft singing of those who went to the grave mouth with the
child, and when a little later John and Harry returned together, she
knew that _all had been_.
She did not go to meet them, but John came to her. "Let me help you,
dear one," he said tenderly. "One is here who will give you comfort."
"None can comfort me. Who is here?"
"The new curate. He said words at the graveside I shall never forget. He
filled them with such glory that I could not help taking comfort."
"O John, what did he say?"
"After the service was over, and the people dispersing, he stood talking
to Harry and myself, and then he walked up the hill with us.
Pages:
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365