All looked at the stranger-sons; they stood side by side, awe-struck,
motionless, depressed. The old do not easily shed tears, but there was
something in the demeanour of both these old men that was felt to tell
of no common emotion. One of them seemed unable to look down into the
grave at all, he kept his eyes and his face lifted up. The other, as
little Peter stood crying by his side, put his hand down and let it rest
on the child's uncovered head, as if to quiet and comfort him.

This little, half-unconscious action gave great umbrage to some of the
spectators. "Hadn't the dear child allers been the biggest comfort to
his grandmother, and why indeed wasn't he to cry as much as ever he
liked? He had nothing to reproach himself with, and if he had had his
rights, he would have been made chief mourner. Those that stood next the
corpse had never been any comfort or pleasure to her, but that dear
child had walked beside her to church ever since he had been old enough
to go there himself."

"And so those were Daniel and Augustus Mortimer's sons. Very fine young
gentlemen too, one of them not over young, neither; he looked at least
thirty. Well, very mysterious were the ways of Providence! Poor Cuthbert
Melcombe, the eldest son, had left neither chick nor child; no more had
poor Griffith, the youngest. As for Peter, to be sure he had left
children, but then he was gone himself. And these that had behaved so
bad to their blessed mother were all she had to stand by her grave. It
was very mysterious, but she was at rest now, and would never feel their
undutifulness any more."

It was about four o'clock on that summer-like afternoon that the
mourners came home from the funeral. The ladies for the sake of quiet