Zedekiah’s mind was not very retentive, and though, on the present occasion, his memory of the demon was kept alive for a time by his terror, he gradually began to recede from this fixed idea, and to fall back on such fancies as, from their giddy and fleeting character, were more natural to his mind, and more consonant with his temper. A few minutes after he had come to a halt, the first cause of his flight, having made no settled impression upon him, had passed from his recollection, and left him to wander at will over the various and disordered images of an unbridled mind. While he was thus engaged, a sprinkle of rain fell around, and this--so easy is it always to call the imagination to its leading theme--reminded him that he had an interest in the weather for the passing day, as it was to witness the celebration of Cummer Griffin’s funeral. His countenance, which hitherto had been sad and gloomy, brightened as the rain increased, and, after a while, he gave utterance to his feelings in an old distich:-- “Happy is the bridal that glistens in the sun, And blessed is the corpse that the rain rains on.” “Whose burying comes off to-day?” asked a voice behind him, apparently speaking through the gate. Zedekiah, with the view of facing the quarter from which he might expect any danger, had his back to the gate, and his face turned in the direction of the stable; but on being thus accosted, he altered his position, and, with fear and trembling, turned his face round to the gate. His fear, however, was not of long continuance; for, on effecting this evolution, he perceived that the individual who had accosted him was no more than a mortal man, and one, moreover, whom he well knew. “Old Cummer Griffin’s, Master Gray,” he answered. Bernard Gray--for the person addressed was no other--appeared to be somewhat downcast by his intelligence. “So, the old cummer is dead,” he said. “Well, she was a round age, I ween; and led an indifferent good life.” “She was fifty odd when Gaffer Wiggins was buried,” remarked Zedekiah, “and that is twenty years agone, come Martinmas.” “So long?” said Bernard, “Ah! life fleets fast. But how comes it, Zedekiah, thou art not at the cummer’s now? Thou art not wont to be thus tardy.” “The Lord required me elsewhere,” answered Zedekiah. “We have been at the Grange all the morning.” “How?” inquired Bernard. “Had ye aught to do at Sir Edgar de Neville’s?” “Ay, ay, we have chained down the arch-malignant,” replied Zedekiah. “The Pope may deliver him now, an’ he can.”