During the days that followed Mark hardly stirred from the side of the
pretty little clay that had been his mother except when they forced him
for a little while. An hour before the service he knelt alone beside
the casket, and the door opened and Marilyn came softly in, closing it
behind her. She walked over to Mark and laid her hand on his hand that
rested over his mother's among the flowers, and she knelt beside him
and spoke softly: "Oh, God, help Mark to find the light!"
Then the soul of Mark Carter was shaken to the depths and suddenly his
self control which had been so great was broken. His strong shoulders
began to shake with sobs, silent, hard sobs of a man who knows he has
sinned, and tears, scalding tears from the depths of his self-contained
nature.
Marilyn reached her arm out across his shoulders as a mother would try
to protect a child, and lifted her face against his, wet with tears and
kissed him on his forehead. Then she left him and went quietly out.
* * * * * "Well," said Mrs. Harricutt with satisfaction as she walked home after
the funeral with Christie McMertrie, "I'm glad to see that Mark Carter
has a little proper feeling at last. If he'd showed it sooner his Ma
mighta ben in the land of the living yet."
Christie's stern face grew sterner as she set her teeth and bit her
tongue before replying. Then she said with more brrrr than usual in her
speech: "Martha Harricutt, there's na land that's sa livin' as tha land where
Mark Carter's mither has ganged tae, but there's them that has mair
blame to bear fer her gaein' than her bonny big son, I'm thinkin', an'
there's them in this town that agrees with me too, I know full well."
Down in front of the parsonage the minister had his arm around Mark
Carter's shoulders and was urging him: "Son, come in. We want you. Mother wants you, I want you. Marilyn wants
you. Come son, come!"
But Mark steadily refused, his eyes downcast, his face sad, withdrawn: "Mr. Severn, I'll come to-morrow. I can't come tonight. I must go home
and think!"
"And you will promise me you will not leave without coming, Mark?"
asked the minister sadly when he saw that it was no use.
"Yes, I will promise!" Mark wrung the minister's hand in a warm grip
that said many things he could not speak, and then he passed on to his
lonely home. But it was not entirely empty. Billy was there, humbly,
silently, with dog-true eyes, and a grown up patient look on his tired
young face. He had the coffee pot on the stove and hot sausages cooking
on the stove, and a lot of Saxy's doughnuts and a pie on the table.
Billy stayed all night with Mark. He knew Saxy would understand.