s
was 'more than peace and more than rest.'

CHAPTER XXXI
Breaking Down

Funerals were little attended in these sad days. The living had to
be regarded more than the dead, and Raymond Poynsett was only
followed to the grave by his two brothers, his father-in-law, and
some of the servants. Rosamond, however, weeping her soft profuse
tears, could hear everything from behind the blind at Terry's open
window, on that moist warm autumn day; everything, for no exception
was made to the rule that coffins might not be taken into the church
during this deadly sickness. She did hear a faltering and a
blundering, which caused her to look anxiously at the tall white
figure standing at the head of the grave, and, as she now saw, once
or twice catching at the iron railing that fenced in the Poynsett
tombs. Neither her husband nor his brother seemed to notice what
she observed. Absorbed in the sorrow and in one another, they
turned away after the service was ended and walked towards the Hall.
Rosamond did not speak for a minute or two, then she turned round to
Terry, who was sitting up in bed, with an awe-struck face, listening
as well as he could to the low sounds, and watching her.

"Terry, dear, shall you mind my going to see after Herbert Bowater?
I am sure they have let him overwork himself. If he is not fit to
take Lady Tyrrell's funeral this afternoon, I _shall_ send to
Duddingstone on my own responsibility. I will not have Julius doing
that!"

"Do you think he is ill--Bowater, I mean?" asked Terry.

"I don't like it. He seemed to totter as he went across the
churchyard, and he blundered. I shall go and see."

"Oh yes, go," said Terry; "I don't want anybody. Don't hurry."

Rosamond put on her hat and sped away to Mrs. Hornblower's. As
usual, the front door leading to the staircase was open, and, going
up, she knocked at the sitting-room door; but the only response was
such a whining and scratching that she supposed the dogs had been
left prisoners there and forgotten, and so she turned the lock--but
there was an obstruction; so that though Mungo and Tartar darted out
and snuffed round her, only Rollo's paw and head appeared, and there
was a beseeching earnestness in his looks and little moans, as if
entreating her to come in. Another push, vigorously seconded by
Rollo within, showed her that it was Herbert's shoulder that
hindered her, and that he was lying outstretched on the floor,
apparently