"She pleased God and was beloved, and she was taken away from living among sinners.
"Her place was changed, lest evil should mar her understanding or falsehood beguile her soul.
"She was made perfect in a little while, and finished the work of many years.
"For her soul pleased God, and therefore He made haste to lead her forth out of the midst of iniquity.
"And the people saw it and understood it not; neither considered they this-"That the grace of God and His mercy are upon His saints, and His regard unto His Elect."
Chief among the mourners was Sophy's aunt Griselda. She now bitterly repented the unwise and unkind "No." Sophy was dearer to her than she thought, and when she had talked over her wrongs with Janet, her indignation knew no bounds. It showed itself first of all to the author of these wrongs. Madame came early to her shop on Monday morning, and presuming on her last confidential talk with Miss Kilgour, began the conversation on that basis.
"You see, Miss Kilgour," she said with a sigh, "what that poor girl's folly has led her to."
"I see what she has come to. I'm not blaming Sophy, however."
"Well, whoever is to blame--and I suppose Braelands should have been more patient with the troubles he called to himself--I shall have to put on 'blacks' in consequence. It is a great expense, and a very useless one; but people will talk if I do not go into mourning for my son's wife."
"I wouldn't do it, if I was you."
"Society obliges. You must make me two gowns at least."
"I will not sew a single stitch for you."
"Not sew for me?"
"Never again; not if you paid me a guinea a stitch."
"What do you mean? Are you in your senses?"
"Just as much as poor Sophy was. And I'll never forgive myself for listening to your lies about my niece. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Your cruelties to her are the talk of the whole country-side."
"How dare you call me a liar?"
"When I think of wee Sophy in her coffin, I could call you something far worse."
"You are an impertinent woman."
"Ah well, I never broke the Sixth Command. And if I was you, Madame, I wouldn't put 'blacks' on about it. But 'blacks' or no 'blacks,' you can go to some other body to make them for you; for I want none of your custom, and I'll be obliged to you to get from under my roof. This is a decent, God-fearing house."
Madame had left before the end of Griselda's orders; but she followed her to the door, and delivered her last sentence as Madame was stepping into her carriage. She was furious at the truths so uncompromisingly told her, and still more so at the woman who had been their mouthpiece. "A creature whom I have made! actually made!" she almost screamed. "She would be out at service today but for me! The shameful, impertinent, ungrateful wretch!" She ordered Thomas to drive her straight back home, and, quivering with indignation, went to her son's room. He was dressed, but lying prone upon his bed; his mother's complaining irritated his mood beyond his endurance. He rose up in a passion; his white haggard face showed how deeply sorrow and remorse had ploughed into his very soul.