"Come away, my darling," I whispered; "it is a funeral service."
She turned her eyes on me. "I _must_ understand, I must see who it is. I
shall go mad if you take me away now. I cannot bear any more."
We walked up the aisle, and placed ourselves as near as possible to the
spot where the coffin lay, covered with flowers and with tapers burning
about it. And we heard that music again, every note of it the same that
each had heard before. And when the service was over I whispered to the
sacristan--
"Whose music was that?"
"Our organist's," he answered; "it is the first time they've had it.
Fine, wasn't it?"
"Who is the--who was--who is being buried?"
"A foreign gentleman, sir; they do say as his lady as was to be gave him
the slip on his wedding day, and he'd given her father thousands they
say, if the truth was known."
"But what was he doing here?"
"Well, that's the curious part, sir. To show his independence, what does
he do but go the same tour he'd planned for his wedding trip. And there
was a railway accident, and him and every one in his carriage killed in
a twinkling, so to speak. Lucky for the young lady she was off with
somebody else."
The sacristan laughed softly to himself.
Kate's fingers gripped my arm.
"What was his name?" she asked.