tie devolved all the duties of the head of the household, but
his mother was ready at every turn to help him. She was more to him
during those few days than she had ever been before. Capper also,
remaining for the funeral, placed himself at his disposal and did much to
lighten the burden.

Capper indeed helped everyone, and Anne always remembered with gratitude
a few moments that she had alone with him on the evening before the
funeral, when he laid a fatherly hand upon her shoulder to say: "My dear,
I don't know if you're fretting any, but you've no cause to fret. I know
now that it couldn't have been otherwise. If you'd been his wife you
couldn't have kept him."

She thanked him with a look. She believed that Capper understood, and she
was glad that it should be so. She fancied also that his opinion
regarding Nap had undergone a change, but she hesitated to touch upon the
subject, and the moment passed.

Up to the last minute she was doubtful as to whether Nap would attend his
brother's funeral. She herself went because Mrs. Errol desired to go. She
walked with Capper immediately behind Bertie and his mother. Neither of
them seemed to expect Nap, or even to think of him. His movements were
always sudden and generally unaccountable. But she knew that his absence
would cause comment in the neighbourhood, and though she also knew that
Nap would care nothing for that, she earnestly hoped that he would not
give occasion for it.

Nevertheless the procession started without him, and she had almost
ceased to hope when he suddenly appeared from nowhere as it seemed to
her, and walked on her other side.

She heard Capper give a grunt, whether of approval or otherwise she did
not know, but not a word was said. She glanced once at Nap, but his face
was sphinx-like, utterly unresponsive. He stared straight ahead, with
eyes that never varied, at the coffin that was being borne upon men's
shoulders to its quiet resting-place in the village churchyard, and
throughout the journey thither his expression remained unaltered.

At the gate Bertie suddenly turned and motioned him forward, and they
entered the church together. Later, by the open grave, Anne saw that
Bertie was leaning on Nap's shoulder, while his mother stood apart with
her face to the sky; and she knew that the feud between them had been
laid at last and for ever by the man who had ruled supreme in the hearts
of all who knew him.

When all was over, Nap disappeared,