I heard in the ringing it was an old man.
When the old die-- Listen to the bell! it is laughing--'It is right, it is
right; he has had his time.' They cannot ring so for the young."
She fell back exhausted; the hot light died from her eyes, and she lay
looking out into the street. By and by stragglers from the funeral began
to come back and disappear here and there among the houses; then all was
quiet, and the night began to settle down upon the village street.
Afterward, when the room was almost dark, so that they could not see each
other's faces, she said, "It will rain tonight;" and moved restlessly on
the pillows. "How terrible when the rain falls down on you."
He wondered what she meant, and they sat on in the still darkening room.
She moved again.
"Will you presently take my cloak--and new grey cloak from behind the door-
-and go out with it. You will find a little grave at the foot of the tall
gum-tree; the water drips off the long, pointed leaves; you must cover it
up with that."
She moved restlessly as though in pain.
Gregory assented, and there was silence again. It was the first time she
had ever spoken of her child.
"It was so small," she said; "it lived such a little while--only three
hours. They laid it close by me, but I never saw it; I could feel it by
me." She waited; "its feet were so cold; I took them in my hand to make
them warm, and my hand closed right over them they were so little.
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