Kindly time had the foregoing event three days from the present of Baptista Heddegan.  It was ten o’clock in the morning; she had been ill, not in an ordinary or definite sense, but in a state of cold stupefaction, from which it was difficult to arouse her so much as to say a few sentences.  When questioned she had replied that she was pretty well.  
Their trip, as such, had been something of a failure.  They had gone on as far as Falmouth, but here he had given way to her to return home.  This they could not very well do without repassing through Pen-zephyr, at which place they had now again arrived.
 
In the train she had seen a weekly local paper, and read there a paragraph detailing the inquest on Charles.  It was added that the funeral was to take place at his native town of Redrutin on Friday.
 
After reading this she had shown no to enter the fatal neighbourhood of the tragedy, only that they should take their rest at a different from the first; and now comparatively up and calm—indeed a cooler creature altogether than when last in the town, she said to David that she wanted to walk out for a while, as they had plenty of time on their hands.
 
‘To a shop as usual, I suppose, mee deer?’
 
‘Partly for shopping,’ she said.  ‘And it will be best for you, dear, to stay in after about so much, and have a good rest while I am gone.’
 
He ; and Baptista sallied .  As she had stated, her first visit was made to a shop, a draper’s.  Without the exercise of much choice she purchased a black and veil, also a black stuff gown; a black she already wore.  These articles were made up into a parcel which, in spite of the saleswoman’s offers, her customer said she would take with her.  Bearing it on her arm she turned to the railway, and at the station got a ticket for Redrutin.
 
Thus it appeared that, on her recovery from the paralyzed mood of the former day, while she had resolved not to blast the happiness of her present husband by revealing the history of the departed one, she had also to indulge a certain odd, inconsequent, feminine sentiment of , to the small extent to which it could do no harm to any person.  At Redrutin she emerged from the railway carriage in the black purchased at the shop, having during the made the change in the empty she had chosen.  The other clothes were now in the bandbox and parcel.  Leaving these at the cloak-room she proceeded , and after a survey reached the side of a hill whence a view of the burial ground could be obtained.
 
It was now a little before two o’clock.  While Baptista waited a funeral procession the road.  Baptista hastened across, and by the time the procession entered the gates she had unobtrusively joined it.
 
In addition to the schoolmaster’s own relatives (not a few), the paragraph in the newspapers of his death by drowning had together many neighbours, acquaintances, and .  Among them she passed unnoticed, and with a quiet step pursued the path to the , and afterwards thence to the grave.  When all was over, and the relatives and idlers had withdrawn, she stepped to the edge of the .  From beneath her mantle she drew a little bunch of forget-me-nots, and dropped them in upon the .  In a few minutes she also turned and went away from the cemetery.  By five o’clock she was again in Pen-zephyr.
 
‘You have been a mortal long time!’ said her husband, crossly.  ‘I allowed you an hour at most, mee deer.’
 
‘It occupied me longer,’ said she.
 
‘Well—I reckon it is wasting words to complain.  Hang it, ye look so tired and wisht that I can’t find heart to say what I would!’
 
‘I am—weary and wisht, David; I am.  We can get home to-morrow for certain, I hope?’
 
‘We can.  And please God we will!’ said Mr. Heddegan , as if he too were weary of his brief .  ‘I must be into business again on Monday morning at latest.’
 
They left by the next morning steamer, and in the afternoon took up their residence in their own house at Giant’s Town.
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