nvicted and sentenced me, as no human law could have done!"

He ceased as abruptly as he had began. He stood there, broken,
self-accused, in a humiliation so deep, a despair so utter, that the
sternest of his listeners was moved to a compassion which fought
desperately with the horror his story had inspired. Involuntarily,
unconsciously, those nearest him had shrunk away until he stood apart,
alone, at the foot of the coffin, from which the dead, half-opened
eyes seem to hold him in a stony, unrelenting stare.

For a time there was a complete, terrible silence. Then the minister,
who had sat all this time at the head of the coffin, his venerable
head bowed upon his hands, rose, and went across the room, his mild
face illumined with a look of divine pity. He laid his withered hands
upon Dixon's folded arms, and spoke:

"'When I kept silence my bones waxed old. Day and night Thy hand was
heavy upon me.

"'Mine iniquities are gone over my head, as a heavy burden they are
too heavy for me. I am troubled. I am bowed down greatly. My sorrow is
continually before me. I will declare my iniquity. I will be sorry for
my sin. Forsake me not, O Lord! Make haste to help me, O Lord, my
salvation!'"

All heads were bowed. From the corner where the women sat together
came the sound of suppressed sobbing.

The minister went back to his place, and folding his hands above the
coffin, said:

"Let us pray."

When the prayer was ended, the coffin was closed, and, followed by the
entire assemblage, was borne to the place prepared for it.

The day was mild. A dense, soft snow was falling, through which the
figures of men and women moved with phantasmal noiselessness. Dixon
walked foremost by the side of the clergyman. When all was over, he
raised his eyes from the icy clods of the new-made grave. The
venerable man stood silent at its foot. Otherwise he was alone.

At the door of his cottage, the old man, too, left him, with a strong,
long hand-pressure. He stood for some time before the door. The air
was thick with the great flakes of snow, the footprints beneath the
window and across the frozen field were already hidden from sight,
but he knew that they were there, and always would be.

At last, very slowly and heavily, he turned and went into the house.
It was cold and silent. The door of the front room stood open, and the
chairs were as the people had left them. He went into the room and
tried to restore things to their custom