"You would like to be alone, but I will call in the afternoon.

You will want someone to--to--make arrangements for you." "Arrangements?
To have my little one buried?
Yes, yes, of course.

I shall be thankful, indeed." "Here, or at Penderin ?" "Oh, here--in the 'rock' churchyard." "I will go at once," and he went out, gently closing the door upon the two women in their sorrow.
In the afternoon he came again, and, being a man of very warm feelings, dreaded the scene of a woman's tears and sobs, though he longed to soothe and comfort the girl who so much interested him.

But there were no tears or wailings awaiting him.
Valmai sat in the low rush chair in stony despair, her hands clasped on her lap, her face white as her dress, her blue eyes dry, and with a mute, inquiring gaze in them, as though she looked around for an explanation of this fresh misery.
He did not tell her more than was necessary of his interview with the Vicar.

The child was supposed to be illegitimate as well as unbaptised, and could not, therefore, be allowed to sleep his last sleep in the company of the baptised saints.
Old Shon, the sexton, was already digging the little grave in a corner of the churchyard relegated to such unconsidered and unwelcomed beings as this.