Piers did not take any notice of him. One of the doctors who was bending over the coffin glanced up with an annoyed expression of face.
“Go away, little boy,” he said; and then he gave directions to one of the men beside him. The man stepped forward.
“But I’m not going away!” said little Piers. “This is my own churchyard and my own chapel. What are you doing here? You are to go away—I’m not going.”
The man was about to reply angrily, and to push the little intruder from the scene, when suddenly there was a fresh commotion. Some steps were heard approaching—eager steps, the steps of women. Piers burst from the restraining hand of the man. He had the boy in his grip, but the child wriggled away as if he were a little eel.
“Barbara!” cried Piers. “Barbara!” He rushed down the path. A lady with starry brown eyes was coming up, a lady with a white face, and a world of indescribable sorrow in her eyes. She was accompanied by some one else, but at her Piers had no time to glance. He flung his arms round Barbara’s neck.
“What does it mean?” he cried. “What does it mean? Here I am. I’m back again. I’m alive and well. What does it mean, dear, darling, darling Barbara?”
“Is it a dream?” cried Barbara. “Are you a spirit or in the flesh? Oh, Piers, speak, for heavens sake! Oh, my heart will break!”
“But I am as alive as possible,” said Piers in a tone of astonishment. “I never was dead at all. What can it mean? I, dead and in my coffin! And they have stuck my name on a tablet in the church. What can it mean? I didn’t die aged seven. I’m alive. Feel me. Isn’t my arm strong? Aren’t my cheeks rosy? It was grannie did all that. I love grannie and I love Clara, but I can’t, no, I can’t keep my secret any longer, Clara. There you are, nurse, I see you. Oh, Barbara, kiss me. Barbara, take me back to mother. Where’s Dick? Oh, Barbara, Barbara!”
Barbara Pelham was too brave a girl to faint even in the presence of such an emergency. It is true that she grasped hold of Clara Tarbot, and looked with terrified eyes from Clara to the boy.
“He is here—God bless him!—and alive,” cried Clara. “I will tell you all. I came down for the purpose. I have a terrible confession to make.” But the words had scarcely passed her lips before her composure gave way, her strength, already strained to the utmost, vanished, and the unhappy woman sank in a fit of unconsciousness on the ground.