Between them they raised up the mattress; but their movements were
unsteady, and the coat slipped to the floor, revealing the poor body in
its helpless misery. Charity, picking up the coat, covered her mother
once more. Liff had brought a lantern, and the old woman who had already
spoken took it up, and opened the door to let the little procession
pass out. The wind had dropped, and the night was very dark and bitterly
cold. The old woman walked ahead, the lantern shaking in her hand and
spreading out before her a pale patch of dead grass and coarse-leaved
weeds enclosed in an immensity of blackness.
Mr. Miles took Charity by the arm, and side by side they walked behind
the mattress. At length the old woman with the lantern stopped, and
Charity saw the light fall on the stooping shoulders of the bearers and
on a ridge of upheaved earth over which they were bending. Mr. Miles
released her arm and approached the hollow on the other side of the
ridge; and while the men stooped down, lowering the mattress into the
grave, he began to speak again.
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