CHAPTER VII.
BARBARA'S SIN The months following Anthony's death were to Barbara as a bad dream.
Like one in a dream she saw that open, wintry grave beneath the tall church tower about whose battlements the wind-blown rooks wheeled on their homeward way.

She noted a little yellow aconite that had opened its bloom prematurely in the shadow of the wall, and the sight of it brought her some kind of comfort.

He had loved aconites and planted many of them, though because of his winter absences years had gone by since he had seen one with his eyes, at any rate in England.

That this flower among them all should bloom on that day and in that place seemed to her a message and a consolation, the only one that she could find.
His sad office over, her father accompanied her home, pouring into her ear the words of faith and hope that he was accustomed to use to those broken by bereavement, and with him came her mother.

But soon she thanked them gently and bade them leave her to herself.