In a moment they knew that she was praying, and feeling in the presence of something sacred, each man bent his head reverently, and covering her face, Olive too, tried to pray, and shed her first tears.
CHAPTER VI.
A STRANGER.
On the day of the funeral, the sun came up and flashed over the grey chill earth, with a spring-like warmth and radiance, and crept through the open windows with a broad glad smile, as though no sorrow darkened the home and hushed the merry voices.
Many times in these three days of crushing sorrow, when heart and hand seemed powerless to act, had Ernestine thought in a vague, wondering way, of her words: "I wonder what Olive is good for, she is no comfort to any one." Why, she herself, shivering and white, clung to her; Bea went to her; Mrs. Dering turned to them all for comfort, but to Olive for help and advice; Huldah came to her for orders; callers with offers of flowers and help saw her, and all said when questioned; "ask Olive, she can tell you;" "where is Olive?" "Olive knows all about it, don't disturb mama;" and so for once, home without Olive, would have known its greatest need.
On the evening of that last day, when all the sorrowful farewells were over, and the grief stricken family had returned to their saddened home; there came a stranger into Canfield, and after inquiring the way, stalked briskly out to the Dering house. All the heavy foliage being gone, Jean saw him coming through the gate, and turned from the window.
"Some one is coming, Olive," and Olive reached the door, just as the stranger gave a vain pull at the muffled bell. He was a strange, odd looking old gentleman, erect as a picket, scrupulously dressed, and looking at her with fierce grey eyes from under the bushiest lashes.
"Is Mrs. Dering in?" he inquired with a tap of his cane.
"Yes, sir, but——,"