“No one has told me, Mrs. Clements. But I have reasons for feeling sure of it⁠—reasons which I promise you shall know as soon as I can safely explain them. I am certain she was not neglected in her last moments⁠—I am certain the heart complaint from which she suffered so sadly was the true cause of her death. You shall feel as sure of this as I do, soon⁠—you shall know, before long, that she is buried in a quiet country churchyard⁠—in a pretty, peaceful place, which you might have chosen for her yourself.”

“Dead!” said Mrs. Clements, “dead so young, and I am left to hear it! I made her first short frocks. I taught her to walk. The first time she ever said Mother she said it to me ⁠—and now I am left and Anne is taken! Did you say, sir,” said the poor woman, removing the handkerchief from her face, and looking up at me for the first time, “did you say that she had been nicely buried? Was it the sort of funeral she might have had if she had really been my own child?”