"God--it's froze a'ready,"
he muttered, spitting into his palm and passing his ragged shirt-sleeve
across his perspiring face.
"Through our Lord Jesus Christ, who shall change our vile body that it
may be like unto His glorious body, according to the mighty working,
whereby He is able to subdue all things unto Himself..." The last
spadeful of earth fell on the vile body of Mary Hyatt, and Liff rested
on his spade, his shoulder blades still heaving with the effort.
"Lord, have mercy upon us, Christ have mercy upon us, Lord have mercy
upon us..."
Mr. Miles took the lantern from the old woman's hand and swept its light
across the circle of bleared faces. "Now kneel down, all of you," he
commanded, in a voice of authority that Charity had never heard.
She knelt down at the edge of the grave, and the others, stiffly and
hesitatingly, got to their knees beside her. Mr. Miles knelt, too. "And
now pray with me--you know this prayer," he said, and he began: "Our
Father which art in Heaven..." One or two of the women falteringly took
the words up, and when he ended, the lank-haired man flung himself on
the neck of the tall youth.
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