Burr's mother had not seen any of the dainty bridal gewgaws, but that she kept to herself.
People glanced frequently at her with questioning eyes as the time went on; but she sat there with the gleam of her personality as unchanged in her face as the gleam of the pearls on her bosom.
"Catch her looking flustered!" one woman whispered to another.

After the clock struck nine a long breath seemed to be drawn simultaneously by the company; it was quite audible.

Then came a sharp hissing whisper of wonder and consternation; then a hush, and all faces turned towards the door.

Burr Gordon, his face stern and white, stood there looking across at his mother.

She rose at once and went to him with a stately glide, and they disappeared amid a distinct buzz of curiosity that could no longer be restrained.
"They've gone into the parson's study," whispered one to another.
Some reported, upon the good authority of a neighbor's imagination, that Parson Fair had "fallen down dead;" some that Dorothy had fainted away; some that the black woman had killed her and her father.
Meanwhile, Burr and his mother went into Parson Fair's study.