Sommers felt the deaconlike attitude of the dentist, the conventional solemnity of the schoolteacher and of the immobile Swede, the shaking, quavering terror of Mrs. Ducharme, mumbling to herself the words of the service. Why should the old woman be so upset, he wondered. But his vagrant thoughts always came back to the woman near the coffin, the woman he loved. How could she summon up such peace! Was hers one of those mighty souls that never doubted? That steadfast gaze chilled his heart. "The resurrection of the dead." Her glance fell, and for one swift moment rested on the dead man. She was debating those noble words, and denying their hope to _him_, to such as were dead in this life. Then once more her glance rose and fell upon Sommers, and swiftly it effaced his doubts. She was so beautiful, a woman in the full tide of human experience! And the night before she had been so simple and tender and passionate. He felt her arms about his heart, teaching him how to live. This moment, this careful putting away of the past must be over soon, in a few hours; whereupon he and she would cast it out of their hearts as they would leave this gloomy cottage and waste marshes. He would not think of the body there and its death, of anything but her. How exquisite would be this triumph, over her baulked, defeated past! 'Alves, Alves,' he murmured in his heart, 'only you who have suffered can love.' It seemed that an answering wave of color swept over her pale face. * * * * * There was a movement. The service was ended. The burial was the only thing that remained to be done. Sommers went to the cemetery with the minister and Dr. Leonard. He did not wish to be with Alves until they could be alone. The grave was in the half-finished cemetery beside the Cottage Grove cable line, among the newest lots. It was a fit place for Preston, this bit of sandy prairie in the incomplete city. The man who came and went from town to town, knowing chiefly the hotel and the railroad station, might well rest here, within call of the hoarse locomotives gliding restlessly to and fro. As the little company retraced their steps from the grave, Alves spoke to Sommers for the first time. "You will come back with me?" she asked. "Not now," he answered hastily, instinctively. "I must go back to town. The others will be there. Not to-day." CHAPTER XXIV