So were they when the sobbing fishermen lifted her from
the body, so would they be until closed for the last sleep. It was
very cruel.
My father's body lay in the room below, with Uncle Loveday and Mrs.
Busvargus for watchers. Now and again my uncle would steal softly
upstairs, and as softly return with hopelessness upon his face.
The clock downstairs gave the only sound I heard, as it marked the
footsteps of the dark angel coming nearer and nearer. Twice my
mother's lips parted as if to speak; but though I bent down to catch
her words, I could hear no sound.
So, as I sat and watched her waxen face, all the sweet memories of
her came back in a sad, reproachful train. Once more we sat together
by the widowed hearth, reading: once more we stood upon the rocky
edge of Pedn-glas and looked into the splendours of the summer sunset
"for father's ship:" once more we knelt together in Polkimbra Church,
and prayed for his safe return: once more I heard that sweet, low
voice--once more? Ah, never, never more!
Uncle Loveday stole into the room on tip-toe, and looked at her; then
turned and asked--
"Has she spoken yet?"
"No.
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