Miss Cumberland's Sunday-school class, he conjectured, and conjectured rightly.

He also perceived that some of these children loved her.
Near them sat a few relatives and friends.

Among these was a very, very old man, whom he afterwards heard was a great-uncle and a centenarian.
Between him and one of the little girls, there apparently existed a strong sympathy; for his hand reached out and drew her to him when the tears began to steal down her cheeks, and the looks which passed between the two had all the appeal and all the protection of a great love.
Sweetwater, who had many a soft spot in his breast, felt his heart warm at this one innocent display of natural feeling in an assemblage otherwise frozen by the horror of the occasion.

His eyes dwelt lingeringly on the child, and still more lingeringly on the old, old man, before passing to that heaped-up mound of flowers, under which lay a murdered body and a bruised heart.

He could not see the face, but the spectacle was sufficiently awe-compelling without that.
Would it have seemed yet more so, had he known at whose request the huge bunch of lilies had been placed over that silent heart?
The sister sick, the brother invisible, there was little more to hold his attention in this quarter; so he let it roam across the heads of the people about him, to the distant hall communicating with the kitchen.
Several persons were approaching from this direction, among them Zadok.
The servants of the house, no doubt, for they came in all together and sat down, side by side, in the chairs Sweetwater had so carefully passed by.