Elinor, with a look of awe, came nearer and whispered:
“Dead! Is it possible!”
For a moment both stood in silence, looking down upon the seated figure. It was that of an elderly man, short, and slight of frame, with thick gray hair, and a beard cut roughly to a point. The face, brown, thin, and bony, was unduly emphasized by a Roman nose, too large for the other features. But the face, as a whole, impressed the two people now regarding it as almost handsome. He was clad in a dark gray suit, and a soft felt hat lay upon the seat beside him.
“How long has he been here, do you think?” asked Elinor, in a low voice.
“A day or two, I should say. His clothes are a little damp, and there are pine-needles on his shoulders and on his head.”
“But how dreadfully sudden it must have come! Not a change in his position, or in his expression, even.”
“An ideal death,” said Pats. “I have helped bury a good many men this year, both friends and enemies, but very few went off as comfortably as this.”
93He took out his watch, seemed to hesitate a moment, then said, reluctantly:
“This is bad for us, you know, finding him dead this way.”
“Why?”