Page:Once a Week, Series 1, Volume II Dec 1859 to June 1860.pdf/526

26, 1860.] sufficient to warrant the hope that his sufferings, instead of being prolonged, were terminated at once by the fall. The forehead was a little compressed, and there were evident marks of contusion on the face. The left leg and arm were broken in several places, as also the backbone.

The body having been wrapped in a sheet, two of the fir trees were used, from which to sling it lengthways, and it was arranged it should be carried by two men at a time, relieving each other. Henri was impatient to be one of the first bearers of the sad burthen, but his agitation had left its effects in shaking his strong frame, and he resolved he would take his turn at the last, and thus bear it into the village. As they left the small pine forest, and came upon the open valley, Henri placed a pole upon his shoulders, and thus walked foremost of the sorrowful and large party as they wound slowly down on their way to the Presbytère. The glow of the sunset had just subsided, and all nature was under the influence of the death-like leaden hue which succeeds it, but which again in a few minutes gives place to a warm and roseate colouring. It is more than probable that one or more of those who contemplated this singular but unvarying effect at the setting of the sun, felt and applied some consoling thoughts to their present sorrow. Many of the villagers had assembled through curiosity, but Henri saw only two women, the one supporting the other. They needed no words to assure them that Henri’s innocence was declared, since the corpse was there, which was all that was necessary to proclaim it.

As soon as the melancholy duty was performed of laying the sad burthen in the small vestibule of the Presbytère, Henri hastened towards his home. His mother and Justine met him as he quitted the garden of the curé, and the happiness of that moment, when he alternately embraced them, repaid him for his previous hours of distress and anxiety. His friends and companions crowded round him with hearty expressions of good-will, and much as he had suffered from their defection, he was too happy not to be generous, and forgive their unjust suspicions.

The funeral followed very speedily. The sorrowing friends felt their mission was done. They should hear the last solemn service said over the remains of him they loved, and see them placed in the wild, but picturesque village cemetery. The train of mourners was very numerous; the friends of M. Meuron, the Syndic of the district, and most of the inhabitants of the place.

A lovely autumn morning shone upon the procession as it slowly left the Presbytère, and moved on its way up a beaten but rising path to the little church. Before the earth was closed over the coffin, and as the crowd, in profound silence, was standing round the earthy and not icy grave, which at last received the body of this excellent young pasteur, the stillness of the scene was