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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
.
“
It
was
this
way
,
”
he
said
.
“
I
tole
her
the
night
before
,
I
says
to
her
.
.
.
”
The
reminiscence
ended
in
a
sob
.
Mr
Miles
had
been
getting
into
his
coat
again
.
He
came
up
to
Charity
,
who
had
remained
passively
kneeling
by
the
rough
mound
of
earth
.
“
My
child
,
you
must
come
.
It
’
s
very
late
.
”
She
lifted
her
eyes
to
his
face
:
he
seemed
to
speak
out
of
another
world
.
“
I
ain
’
t
coming
:
I
’
m
going
to
stay
here
.
”
“
Here
?
Where
?
What
do
you
mean
?
”
“
These
are
my
folks
.
I
’
m
going
to
stay
with
them
.
”
Mr
.
Miles
lowered
his
voice
.
“
But
it
’
s
not
possible
—
you
don
’
t
know
what
you
are
doing
.
You
can
’
t
stay
among
these
people
:
you
must
come
with
me
.
”
She
shook
her
head
and
rose
from
her
knees
.
The
group
about
the
grave
had
scattered
in
the
darkness
,
but
the
old
woman
with
the
lantern
stood
waiting
.
Her
mournful
withered
face
was
not
unkind
,
and
Charity
went
up
to
her
.
