The afternoon wore away. As the twilight fell, Mr. Ingelow took his
departure, and Mollie went down to Mrs. Slimmens' for a reviving cup of
tea.
"I have everything arranged for the funeral, Mollie," Mr. Ingelow said
at parting. "I will be here by nine o'clock to-morrow. Don't give
yourself the least anxiety about the matter, Mollie."
The young man departed. Mollie had her toast, and returned to the
death-room. She remained there until past midnight with Mrs. Harmen;
then, at Mrs. Slimmens' earnest request, she retired, and that good
woman took her place. At ten next day, the humble funeral _cort?ge_
started. Mr. Ingelow sat in the carriage with Mollie, but they spoke
very little during the melancholy drive.
It was a dismal day, with ceaseless rain, and sighing wind, and leaden
sky. Mollie cowered in a corner of the carriage, her pale face gleaming
like a star above her black wraps, the bright blue eyes unutterably
mournful.
And Hugh Ingelow watched her with an indescribable expression in his
fathomless eyes, and made no effort to console her.
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