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"And not too soon" was Miss Clairville's inward thought, as with new fears pricking at her heart she kept silence, so unusual a thing with her that the garrulous Renaud observed it and endeavoured to correct his pessimism. "Enough of Life and not too much of Death," he repeated, gaily flourishing his whip. "It has a queer sound, that, eh?
"I have told you before that I would," he returned firmly. "No matter what has happened; no matter what you have done, what anyone else has done, I would, I will, I do take you! You are Heaven's choicest, dearest gift to me and what am I but an erring man trying to walk straight and see straight!" Miss Clairville's eyes sparkled with mischief, while her mouth remained solemn.
His labours among the few scattered and uneducated families of conflicting race and origin seemed unconvincing and empty, and a new shyness possessed him; he disliked hearing any mention of the Clairvilles, for Crabbe's story he had come to accept as true without a word of questioning; indeed, Miss Clairville's own words came back to him as a proof. "Another patient of the soul," she had said.
When we are talking of our immortal souls and of our hopes of salvation! When truth is at stake, your character, your future perhaps think if that had been told to anyone else!" he exclaimed half to himself. "Then you will come?" Miss Clairville's tone was full of a radiant incredulity. She leant still farther towards him, and her eyes burned into the surrounding darkness of the night.
What words were these to be sung at a mixed concert in a summer hotel in the primitive village of St. Ignace? Ringfield knew enough French to follow them, and as the minor plainsong of the melody floated through the hall, he saw Miss Clairville's eyes filling with tears where she sat in the front at one side awaiting her turn.
We entered the vault, and, on her knees before a figure, was Ella the form and dress were De Clairville's, such as we had seen him in last, but the face, oh! heaven, the face showed but the white bones of a skeleton. The rich brown curls still clung to the fleshless skull, and on the finger glittered the ring with which Ella was to have been wed.
He had arrived at noon on the day of Henry Clairville's death and the next morning accordingly brought him the news in print. He grew thoughtful for a while, meant to dispatch a telegram of condolence to Pauline, then forgot it as he became interested in his work.
Ignace to love and suffer in loving would spare him further, since there was no sign of Miss Clairville's return. His preaching could not fail, because he brought to it a fine original gift and an automatic precision and certainty resulting from the excellent training of his Church, but between Sundays the time dragged.
Never, never in this world, do they venture to dig a grave unless the body to be buried already occupies the site of the cavity. This is absolutely confirmed by my two months and more of daily observations. The rest of Clairville's anecdote bears examination no better.
It was a case of "on with the new life" carried out with that conviction and sincerity that distinguished all Miss Clairville's actions.
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