The hearse passes over the brae and up the straight burying-ground road, but still there is a cry for the christening robe.
Jess's window was a beacon by night to travellers in the dark, and it will be so in the future when there are none to remember Jess.

There are many such windows still, with loving faces behind them.

From them we watch for the friends and relatives who are coming back, and some, alas! watch in vain.

Not every one returns who takes the elbow of the brae bravely, or waves his handkerchief to those who watch from the window with wet eyes, and some return too late.

To Jess, at her window always when she was not in bed, things happy and mournful and terrible came into view.