names. Seeing Downe about to look
round, Barnet averted his somewhat disturbed face for a second or two;
when he turned again front to front he was calm and quite smiling; it was
a creditable triumph over himself, and deserved to be remembered in his
native town. He greeted Downe heartily, offering his congratulations.

It seemed as if Barnet expected a half-guilty look upon Lucy's face; but
no, save the natural flush and flurry engendered by the service just
performed, there was nothing whatever in her bearing which showed a
disturbed mind: her gray-brown eyes carried in them now as at other times
the well-known expression of common-sensed rectitude which never went so
far as to touch on hardness. She shook hands with him, and Downe said
warmly, 'I wish you could have come sooner: I called on purpose to ask
you. You'll drive back with us now?'

'No, no,' said Barnet; 'I am not at all prepared; but I thought I would
look in upon you for a moment, even though I had not time to go home and
dress. I'll stand back and see you pass out, and observe the effect of
the spectacle upon myself as one of the public.'

Then Lucy and her husband laughed, and Barnet laughed and retired; and
the quiet little party went gliding down the nave and towards the porch,
Lucy's new silk dress sweeping with a smart rustle round the
base-mouldings of the ancient font, and Downe's little daughters
following in a state of round-eyed interest in their position, and that
of Lucy, their teacher and friend.

So Downe was comforted after his Emily's death, which had taken place
twelve months, two weeks, and three days before that time.

When the two flys had driven off and the spectators had vanished, Barnet
followed to the door, and went out into the sun. He took no more trouble
to preserve a spruce exterior; his step was unequal, hesitating, almost
convulsive; and the slight changes of colour which went on in his face
seemed refracted from some inward flame. In the churchyard he became
pale as a summer cloud, and finding it not easy to proceed he sat down on
one of the tombstones and supported his head with his hand.

Hard by was a sexton filling up a grave which he had not found time to
finish on the previous evening. Observing Barnet, he went up to him, and
recognizing him, said, 'Shall I help you home, sir?'

'O no, thank you,' said Barnet, rousing himself and standing up. The
sexton returned to his grave, followed by Barnet, who, a