The Interloper by Violet Jacob

THE woman who lay in her grave by the sands had rested there for nearly / thirty years when her son stood in the grass to read her name and the / date of her death. The place had been disused as a burial-ground; and / it cost Gilbert some trouble to find the corner in which Clementina / Speid's passionate heart had mixed with the dust from which, we are / told, we emanate. The moss and damp had done their best to help on the / oblivion lying in wait for us all, and it was only after half an hour / of careful scraping that he had spelt out the letters on the stone. / There was little to read: her name, and the day she died -- October 5, / 1770 -- and her age. It was twenty-nine; just a year short of his own. / Underneath was cut: ‘Thus have they rewarded me evil for good, and / hatred for my goodwill (Ps. cix. 4).'

He stood at her feet, his chin in his hand, and the salt wind blowing / in his hair. The smell of tar came up from the nets spread on the shore / to windward of him, and a gull flitted shrieking from the line of cliff / above.