ss Maynard! what calm
should it bring to your troubled heart! I will not fail, believe me, to
offer the prayers of the Church for the same object; and if you did but
consider their efficacy, you would cease to mourn as you now do."

Poor Clara was too completely overwhelmed by grief to understand the
meaning of what the vicar said, though she heard the words issuing from
his mouth.

"I will relieve you," he continued, "from all the painful arrangements
connected with the funeral, in conjunction with your aunt, whom I will
now join in the drawing-room."

"Oh! thank you! thank you!" exclaimed Clara, between her sobs. "I shall
be most grateful--do whatever you think best."

Mr Lerew retired; and after a conversation of some length with Miss
Pemberton he drove away. Clara--so absorbing was her grief--could with
difficulty regain her power of thought. She felt alone in the world.
Had General Caulfield been at home, she would have had him to consult;
but she had no confidence in her Aunt Sarah's judgment, though she had
of late been more guided by her than she was aware of.

"Our excellent vicar and I have arranged everything," said Miss
Pemberton, on entering the room some time afterwards; "so do not further
trouble yourself about the matter."

Clara expressed her thanks to her aunt. Completely prostrate, she
remained in bed. Workmen sent by the vicar came to the house, and were
employed for some time in her father's room. She dared not inquire what
they were about. At length she arose and dressed. She felt a longing
desire once more to gaze on those dear features. She inquired whether
she might go to the room.

"Oh, yes, miss," was the answer. "It's all done up on purpose, and
looks so grand."

She hurried on, and, entering, what was her astonishment to find the
room draped in black, the windows closed, and several long wax candles
arranged round the bed on which her father's body lay, dressed in his
naval uniform. She approached, and leant over the bed, on which, after
standing gazing at his features for some minutes, she sank down with her
arms extended, almost fainting. At that instant the vicar appeared at
the doorway.

"What a lovely picture!" he whispered, as if to himself; "can anything
surpass it?"

Clara heard him, and had still strength sufficient to rise.

"We have done what we can to do honour to your father," he said,
advancing and taking her hand. "Had General Caulfield been present