My busy thoughts were recalled by hearing
the penetrating voice of the preacher saying "dust to dust, ashes to
ashes," with the remainder of the beautiful formula used by many of the
churches in planting the human germ. A glance around revealed Daniel
Blake leaning in the very abandonment of grief on a tombstone at the
grave's side, and looking down into the coffin that was rapidly
disappearing under the shovelfuls of clay. A keen sense of my own
heartlessness in feeling so happy within touch of such woe came over me,
while a vague wonder seized me, if some other careless-hearted creatures
might not be planning their joys some day in presence of my breaking
heart.
CHAPTER V.
A NEW ACCOMPLISHMENT LEARNED.
I was rapidly attaining the comfortable home feeling at Oaklands, which
makes life in castle or hut a rapture. There were so many sources of
enjoyment open to me. I had a more than usual love for painting, and
had for years prosecuted the art more from love than duty. My last
teacher, an old German Professor, exacting and very thorough, had been as
particular with my instruction as if my bread depended on my proficiency.
I thanked him now in my heart when I found myself shut out from other
opportunities for improvement than what, unaided, I could secure. There
were special bits of landscape I loved to sketch over and over again;
these I would take to Mrs. Flaxman, or Reynolds, the housekeeper, to see
if they could recognize the original of my drawing; but even Samuel, the
stable-boy, could name the spot at sight.
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