But then there seemed nothing else to live for; so her life
gradually faded from her eye, as an expiring candle; and she would doze
by the hour, sitting on a settle in the sun, basking her old heart in
the smile of those old mountains. None knew when she died, to a minute;
for she died sitting in the sun, in the smile of those old mountains.
They buried her, with much of rustic pomp, in the hill-church of
Glenmuir, where all her fathers slept around her; and Emily and Charles,
hand-in-hand, walked behind her coffin mournfully.
CHAPTER XXX.
FINAL.
GLADLY would the laird have had marriage at Dunstower, and have given
away the beauteous bride himself: but there must still be two months
more of decent mourning, and the general had long learned to sigh for
the maligned delights of Burleigh Singleton. So, Glenmuir could only get
a promise of reappearance some fine summer or other: and, after another
day's deer-stalking, which made the general repudiate telescopes from
that day forth (the poor man's eyes had actually grown lobster-like with
straining after antlers)--the travelling-carriage, and four lean kine
from Inverary, whisked away the trio towards the South.
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