"
Mr. Benson was bitterly oppressed with this interview; it
disturbed the peace with which he was beginning to contemplate
events. His anger ruffled him, although such anger had been just,
and such indignation well deserved; and both had been
unconsciously present in his heart for years against the unknown
seducer, whom he met face to face by the death-bed of Ruth.
It gave him a shock which he did not recover from for many days.
He was nervously afraid lest Mr. Donne should appear at the
funeral; and not all the reasons he alleged to himself against
this apprehension, put it utterly away from him. Before then,
however, he heard casually (for he would allow himself no
inquiries) that he had left the town. No! Ruth's funeral passed
over in calm and simple solemnity. Her child, her own household,
her friend and Mr. Farquhar, quietly walked after the bier, which
was borne by some of the poor to whom she had been very kind in
her lifetime And many others stood aloof in the little
burying-ground, sadly watching that last ceremony.
They slowly dispersed; Mr. Benson leading Leonard by the hand,
and secretly wondering at his self-restraint. Almost as soon as
they had let themselves into the Chapel-house, a messenger
brought a note from Mrs. Bradshaw, with a pot of quince
marmalade, which, she said to Miss Benson, she thought that
Leonard might fancy, and if he did, they were to be sure and let
her know, as she had plenty more; or, was there anything else
that he would like? She would gladly make him whatever he
fancied.
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