The funeral services took place in the new and imposing church
edifice which had been constructed recently in Beryngford. The quiet
interior village had taken a leap forward during the last few years,
and was now a thriving city, owing to the discovery of valuable stone
quarries in its borders.
The Baroness and Mabel had never been in Beryngford since the death
of Judge Lawrence many years before; and it was with sad and bitter
hearts that both women recalled the past and realised anew the
disasters which had wrecked their dearest hopes and ambitions.
The Baroness, broken in spirit and crushed by the insanity of her
beloved Alice, now saw the form of the man whom she had hopelessly
loved for so many years, laid away to crumble back to dust; and yet,
the sorrows which should have softened her soul, and made her heart
tender toward all suffering humanity, rendered her pitiless as the
grave toward one lonely and desolate being before the shadows of
night had fallen upon the grave of Preston Cheney.
When the funeral march pealed out from the grand new organ during the
ceremonies in the church, both the Baroness and the rector, absorbed
as they were in mournful sorrow, started with surprise. Both gazed
at the organ loft; and there, before the great instrument, sat the
graceful figure of Joy Irving.
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