two circumstances. The ring of bells at St. Mary's did not peal, and the
women were dressed in black as the men.

Through the winding lanes of Bridetown a throng converged, drawn to the
grey tower by a tolling bell; and while the sun shone and a riot of many
flowers made hedgerows and cottage gardens gay; while the spirit of the
hour was inspired by June and a sun at the zenith unclouded, the folk of
the hamlet drew their faces to sadness and mothers chid the children,
who could not pretend, but echoed the noontide hour in their hearts.

All were not attired for a funeral. A small crowd of women, with one or
two men among them, stood together where a sycamore threw a patch of
shade on a triangular space of grass near the church. There were fifty
of these people--ancient women, others in their prime, and many young
maidens. Some communion linked them and the few men who stood with them.
All wore a black band upon their left arms. Drab or grey was their
attire, but sun-bonnets nodded bright as butterflies among them, and even
their dull raiment was more cheerful than the gathering company in black
who now began to mass their numbers and crane their heads along the
highway.

Bridetown lies near the sea in a valley under a range of grassy downs.
It is the centre of a network of little lanes with cottages dotted upon
them, or set back behind small gardens. The dwellings stood under
thatch, or weathered tile, and their faces at this season were radiant
with roses and honeysuckles, jasmine and clematis. Pinks, lilies,
columbines made the garden patches gay, and, as though so many flowers
were not enough, the windows, too, shone with geraniums and the scarlet
tassels of great cactus, that lifted their exotic, thorny bodies behind
the window panes. Not a wall but flaunted red valerian and snapdragon.