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besides； she knew the funeral psalm was going to be sung for him。
She felt this counter…excitement to her sorrow still more strongly
as she walked with her sons towards the church door； and saw the
friendly sympathetic nods of their fellow…parishioners。
The mother and sons passed into the church； and one by one
the loiterers followed； though some still lingered without； the sight
of Mr。 Donnithorne’s carriage； which was winding slowly up the
hill； perhaps helping to make them feel that there was no need for
haste。
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But presently the sound of the bassoon and the key…bugles
burst forth； the evening hymn； which always opened the service；
had begun； and every one must now enter and take his place。
I cannot say that the interior of Hayslope Church was
remarkable for anything except for the grey age of its oaken
pews—great square pews mostly； ranged on each side of a narrow
aisle。 It was free； indeed； from the modern blemish of galleries。
The choir had two narrow pews to themselves in the middle of the
right…hand row； so that it was a short process for Joshua Rann to
take his place among them as principal bass； and return to his
desk after the singing was over。 The pulpit and desk； grey and old
as the pews； stood on one side of the arch leading into the chancel；
which also had its grey square pews for Mr。 Donnithorne’s family
and servants。 Yet I assure you these grey pews； with the buff…
washed walls； gave a very pleasing tone to this shabby interior；
and agreed extremely well with the ruddy faces and bright
waistcoats。 And there were liberal touches of crimson toward the
chancel； for the pulpit and Mr。 Donnithorne’s own pew had
handsome crimson cloth cushions； and； to close the vista； there
was a crimson altar…cloth； embroidered with golden rays by Miss
Lydia’s own hand。
But even without the crimson cloth； the effect must have been
warm and cheering when Mr。 Irwine was in the desk； looking
benignly round on that simple congregation—on the hardy old
men； with bent knees and shoulders； perhaps； but with vigour left
for much hedge…clipping and thatching； on the tall stalwart frames
and roughly cut bronzed faces of the stone…cutters and carpenters；
on the half…dozen well…to…do farmers； with their apple…cheeked
families； and on the clean old women； mostly farm…labourers’
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wives； with their bit of snow…white cap…border under their black
bonnets； and with their withered arms； bare from the elbow；
folded passively over their chests。 For none of the old people held
books—why should they？ Not one of them could read。 But they
knew a few “good words” by heart； and their withered lips now
and then moved silently； following the service without any very
clear comprehension indeed； but with a simple faith in its efficacy
to ward off harm and bring blessing。 And now all faces were
visible； for all were standing up—the little children on the seats
peeping over the edge of the grey pews； while good Bishop Ken’s
evening hymn was being sung to one of those lively psalm…tunes
which died out with the last generation of rectors and choral
parish clerks。 Melodies die out； like the pipe of Pan； with the ears
that love them and listen for them。 Adam was not in his usual
place among the singers to…day； for he sat with his mother and
Seth； and he noticed with surprise that Bartle Massey was absent
too—all the more agreeable for Mr。 Joshua Rann； who gave out his
bass notes with unusual complacency and threw an extra ray of
severity into the glances he sent over his spectacles at the recusant
Will Maskery。
I beseech you to imagine Mr。 Irwine looking round on this
scene； in his ample white surplice that became him so well； with
his powdered hair thrown back； his rich brown complexion； and
his finely cut nostril and upper lip； for there was a certain virtue in
that benignant yet keen countenance as there is in all human faces
from which a generous soul beams out。 And over all streamed the
delicious June sunshine through the old windows； with their
desultory patches of yellow； red； and blue； that threw pleasant
touches of colour on the opposite wall。
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I think； as Mr。 Irwine looked round to…day； his eyes rested an
instant longer than usual on the square pew occupied by Martin
Poyser and his family。 And there was another pair of dark eyes
that found it impossible not to wander thither； and rest on that
round pink…and…white figure。 But Hetty was at that moment quite
careless of any glances—she was absorbed in the thought that
Arthur Donnithorne would soon be coming into church； for the
carriage must surely be at the church…gate by this time。 She had
never seen him since she parted with him in the wood on
Thursday evening； and oh； how long the time had seemed！ Things
had gone on just the same as ever since that evening； the wonders
that had happened then had brought no changes after them； they
were already like a dream。 When she heard the church door
swinging； her heart beat so； she dared not look up。 She felt that
her aunt was curtsying； she curtsied herself。 That must be old Mr。
Donnithorne—he always came first； the wrinkled small old man；
peering round with short…sighted glances at the bowing and
curtsying congregation； then she knew Miss Lydia was passing；
and though Hetty liked so much to look at her fashionable little
coal…scuttle bonnet； with the wreath of small roses round it； she
didn’t mind it to…day。 But there were no more curtsies—no； he was
not come； she felt sure there was nothing else passing the pew
door but the house…keeper’s black bonnet and the lady’s maid’s
beautiful straw hat that had once been Miss Lydia’s； and then the
powdered heads of the butler and footman。 No； he was not there；
yet she would look now—she might be mistaken—for； after all； she
had not looked。 So she lifted up her eyelids and glanced timidly at
the cushioned pew in the chancel—there was no one but old Mr。
Donnithorne rubbing his spectacles with his white handkerchief；
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and Miss Lydia opening the large gilt…edged prayer…book。 The chill
disappointment was too hard to bear。 She felt herself turning pale；
her lips trembling； she was ready to cry。 Oh； what should she do？
Everybody would know the reason； they would know she was
crying because Arthur was not there。 And Mr。 Craig； with the
wonderful hothouse plant in his button…hole； was staring at her；
she knew。 It was dreadfully long before the General Confession
began； so that she could kneel down。 Two great drops would fall
then； but no one saw them except good…natured Molly； for her
aunt and uncle knelt with their backs towards her。 Molly； unable
to imagine any cause for tears in church except faintness； of which
she had a vague traditional knowledge； drew out of her pocket a
queer little flat blue smelling…bottle； and after much labour in
pulling the