Never having cared for the child in life, he considered himself a pretty good father to hide his relief at its early taking off.
As a man of means--what mattered if they were Gaston's means?--he had had a really impressive funeral for his son.
The Methodist minister from Hillcrest had preached for full an hour over the tiny casket. Not often did the clergyman have so good an opportunity to tell the St. Angéans what he thought of them.
He dealt with them along old and approved lines. He had heard of Drew's religious views and he took this occasion to include a warning of the damning influence that was about to enter the vicinity with the young minister's return.
"I warn you now," he thundered over the dead baby, "to make the life of this infidel, this God-hater, a burden to him."
Filmer from his rear corner, winked at Gaston at this. Gaston could see nothing amusing in the service--it was all in the passing show--a pitiful and added agony.
In that the show was a little grimmer than usual he found his resentment rising. So Gaston did not return the pleasantry of Jock's wink.
After the service, Jude had insisted that there should be no unseemly haste, and had instructed his chosen representatives to form a line and walk from the house to the tavern and back twice with the tiny remains, before they were finally laid to rest. This show of respect was talked of in St. Angé for days.
Through all the bitter day Joyce had followed dumbly whatever others did. It was like walking in her sleep, and she was grateful that she felt no sorrow.
She had feared if the baby died it might kill her, and now that it was dead she did not mind at all.
Her arms ached a little at times. She thought that was queer; they had never ached when they bore the baby.
At last she and Jude were back in the awful, quiet house. It was more awful now that Jude was there. For after the burial, and before the evening meal, he had been lessening his tension with some boon companions, down at the Black Cat, and Joyce had had the place to herself.
Jude, having relaxed to the state of geniality, was willing to let bygones be bygones in the broadest sense of the word. He had big plans afoot--he had had them the night he came home and found Gaston and Joyce hanging over the baby. These plans had been set aside while the baby was taking his pitiful leave of life after his one smile, but Jude must hurry his case now. Nothing stood in the way--and, although many a woman might get what she deserved, Jude was going to forgive Joyce again and take her to his bosom in a new life, and they'd both forget what was past.