"No one again," he said in a steady voice, though his eyes looked
startled as he stared out. He saw the lonely expanse of snow, the
clouds swagging low, and between the two the line of dark
fir-trees bowing in the wind. He closed the door without a word of
comment, and re-crossed the room.
A score of blanched faces were turned to him as though he must be
solver of the enigma. He could not be unconscious of this mute
eye-questioning, and it disturbed his resolute air of composure.
He hesitated, glanced towards his mother, the house-mistress, then
back at the frightened folk, and gravely, before them all, made
the sign of the cross. There was a flutter of hands as the sign
was repeated by all, and the dead silence was stirred as by a huge
sigh, for the held breath of many was freed as though the sign
gave magic relief.
Even the house-mistress was perturbed. She left her wheel and
crossed the room to her son, and spoke with him for a moment in a
low tone that none could overhear. But a moment later her voice
was high-pitched and loud, so that all might benefit by her rebuke
of the "heathen chatter" of one of the girls. Perhaps she essayed
to silence thus her own misgivings and forebodings.
No other voice dared speak now with its natural fulness. Low tones
made intermittent murmurs, and now and then silence drifted over
the whole room. The handling of tools was as noiseless as might
be, and suspended on the instant if the door rattled in a gust of
wind.
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