Some sentiment such as that she was a queen among women was in his mind,
but it did not rise to his lips. "She would like your help better than
mine," he added. "If you will see that she and her little sister are
taken care of, I will stay here"--he gave a gesture toward the
corpse--"till a stretcher comes."

"I will do my best to take care of them all," Robert Trenholme answered
with a sigh.

Old McNider and his little boy walked behind the women. Robert, limping
as he went, lifted the sleepy child in his arms and joined himself to
the company. They went under the dripping trees, down, down the dark,
slippery path. The white robes hardly glimmered in the darkness. Some of
the women wept; some of them held religious conversation, using such
forms of expression as grow up among certain classes of pious, people
and jar terribly on unaccustomed ears. Those who talked at this time had
less depth of character than those who were silent, and there was
evinced in their conversation a certain pride of resistance to
criticism--that is, they wished to show that if what they had looked for
had not come that night, their expectation of it bad been reasonable,
and that their greatest hopes would shortly be realised to the
confounding of unbelievers. They did not know the manner of their
spirit. Few who indulge in demonstration of piety as a relief to
feeling ever perceive how easily the natural passions can flow into this
channel.

Jesus wished to try their faith, said they, but they would not cast away
their lamps; no, they must keep them trimmed and burning. They could not
live unless they felt that dear Jesus might come for them any night.