e the words of Troy himself:--

ERECTED BY FRANCIS TROY
IN BELOVED MEMORY OF
FANNY ROBIN,
WHO DIED OCTOBER 9, 18--,
AGED 20 YEARS

Underneath this was now inscribed in new letters:--

IN THE SAME GRAVE LIE
THE REMAINS OF THE AFORESAID
FRANCIS TROY,
WHO DIED DECEMBER 24TH, 18--,
AGED 26 YEARS

Whilst she stood and read and meditated the tones of the organ
began again in the church, and she went with the same light step
round to the porch and listened. The door was closed, and the
choir was learning a new hymn. Bathsheba was stirred by emotions
which latterly she had assumed to be altogether dead within her.
The little attenuated voices of the children brought to her ear
in distinct utterance the words they sang without thought or
comprehension--

Lead, kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom,
Lead Thou me on.

Bathsheba's feeling was always to some extent dependent upon her
whim, as is the case with many other women. Something big came into
her throat and an uprising to her eyes--and she thought that she
would allow the imminent tears to flow if they wished. They did
flow and plenteously, and one fell upon the stone bench beside her.
Once that she had begun to cry for she hardly knew what, she could
not leave off for crowding thoughts she knew too well. She would
have given anything in the world to be, as those children were,
unconcerned at the meaning of their words, because too innocent to
feel the necessity for any such expression. All the impassioned
scenes of her brief experience seemed to revive with added emotion at
that moment, and those scenes which had been without emotion during
enactment had emotion then. Yet grief came to her rather as a luxury
than as the scourge of former times.

Owing to Bathsheba's face being buried in her hands she did not
notice a form which came quietly into the porch, and on seeing
her, first moved as if to retreat, then paused and regarded her.
Bathsheba did not raise her head for some time, and when she looked
round her face was wet, and her eyes drowned and dim. "Mr. Oak,"
exclaimed she, disconcerted, "how long have you been here?"

"A few minutes, ma'am," said Oak, respectfully.

"Are you going in?" said Bathsheba; and there came from within the
church as from a prompter--

I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears,
Pride ruled my will: remember not