Wyn trembled as he looked. The little carefully-reared boy had never seen death before, and the awe of the sight choked back his tears. Alwyn helped him to lay the wreath on Edgar's breast, above the white cross already placed there, and then took him out again on to the terrace. Wyn touched his cap and went away; but Alwyn's silent grief was more comfort to him than any words of consolation would have been, and perhaps Alwyn too was soothed by the sense of fellow-feeling. He was glad to think that the great family vault under the floor of the church, where so many Cunninghams had been laid, could not be opened now, and that Edgar would lie under the turf in the churchyard, with the sky over his head, and the great trees of the wood near at hand. All the servants and most of the villagers were at that funeral. Wyn Warren was set to walk by Robertson's side, next after the friends and the family, in which position he felt, in all his trouble, a sort of childish pride. The day was bright, and there was a fresh wind blowing such as Edgar was wont to love, and over the grave, instead of the ordinary hymn, the choir sang some verses about the Heavenly Jerusalem, which seemed to Wyn to picture just the sort of "happy home" where he could fancy that his dear Mr Edgar would dwell. Thy gardens and thy gallant walks Continually are green; There grow such sweet and pleasant flowers As nowhere else are seen. Quite through the streets, with silver sound, The flood of Life doth flow; Upon whose banks on every side The Wood of Life doth grow. There trees for evermore bear fruit, And evermore do spring; There evermore the angels sit, And evermore do sing. "Ah," thought Wyn, "Mr Edgar would like that sort of Paradise." Later in the day Alwyn asked Harry Whittaker to meet him in the park and walk with him through the wood. He had several matters, he told him, to talk about. But when they met he put his arm through his old comrade's, and walked on for a long time in silence. At last Harry said: "Things have been different from what we looked for, sir, haven't they? But there's comfort waiting at home for us. At least, it seems like home over there now to me." "Ah, yes," said Alwyn. "I have gained more than I ever thought for. But I don't seem able to think of anything now but my poor boy and the lonely years that I might have made brighter for him if I had not held out so long." "You came when he most wanted you," said Harry. "Yes, thank God for that! But he _had_ been lonely, though he was such a plucky fellow that he hardly knew it. And I miss--" Alwyn's voice faltered, and he brushed his hand across his eyes. "That was not what I wanted to talk of," he said, rousing himself. "What are your plans, Harry? I must not hurry away from my father; but I shall soon be going back now--for a time, at least."