There were at least three hundred voices thrilling the still, warm air with its pathetic music; and, as they approached the church gates, it blended itself with the heavy tread of those who carried and of those who followed the dead, like a wonderful, triumphant march.
After the funeral was over, the squire went back to Up-Hill to eat the arvel-meal, [Death-feast.] and to hear the will of his old friend read.
It was nearly dark when he returned, and he was very glad to find his wife alone.

"I have had a few hard hours, Alice," he said wearily; "and I am more bothered about Barfs will than I can tell why." "I suppose Steve got all." "Pretty nearly.

Barf's married daughters had their portions long ago, but he left each of them three hundred pounds as a good-will token.
Ducie got a thousand pounds and her right in Up-Hill as long as she lived.

All else was for Steve except--and this bothers me--a box of papers left in Ducie's charge.

They are to be given to me at her discretion; and, if not given during her lifetime or my lifetime, the charge remains then between those that come after us.