Taffy did not look, but gave the word to pass down the coffin which had been brought in readiness.
A clergyman--his father's successor, but a stranger to him--climbed down after it: and he stood in the quiet crowd watching the light-house above and the lamps which the groom had lit in Honoria's carriage, and listening to the bated voices of the few at their dreadful task below.
It was five o'clock and past before the word came up to lower the tackle and draw the coffin up.

The Vicar clambered out to wait it, and when it came, borrowed a lantern and headed the bearers.
The crowd fell in behind.
"I am the resurrection and the life.

.

.

." They began to shuffle forwards and up the difficult track; but presently came to a halt with one accord, the Vicar ceasing in the middle of a sentence.
Out of the night, over the hidden sea, came the sound of men's voices lifted, thrilling the darkness thrice: the sound of three British cheers.
Whose were the voices?
They never knew.