Although she tried not to

But she swayed; Hannah said, “Rest, Mary. There’s no hurry,” and Father Jackson said, “Perhaps you should lie down a little while”; but she said, “No; thank you; I want to go now,” and walked unsteadily to the door, and opened it, and walked through. Father Jackson took her arm, in the top hallway. Although she tried not to, she leaned on him very heavily.   “Come, now,” their mother whispered, and, taking them each by the hand, led them through the Green Room and into the living room. There it was, against the fireplace, and there seemed to be scarcely anything else in the room except the sunny light on the floor. It was very long and dark; smooth like a boat; with bright handles. Half the top was open. There was a strange, sweet smell, so faint that it could scarcely be realized. Rufus had never known such stillness. Their little sounds, as they approached his father, vanished upon it like the infinitesimal whisperings of snow, falling on open water. There was his head, his arms; suit: there he was. Rufus had never seen him so indifferent; and the instant he saw him, he knew that he would never see him otherwise. He had his look of faint impatience, the chin strained a little upward, as if he were concealing his objection to a collar which was too tight and too formal. And in this slight urgency of the chin; in the small trendings of a frown which stayed in the skin; in the arch of the nose; and in the still, strong mouth, there was a look of pride. But most of all, there was indifference; and through this indifference which held him in every particle of his being—an indifference which would have rejected them; have sent them away, except that it was too indifferent even to care whether they went or stayed—in this self-completedness which nothing could touch, there was something else, some other feeling which he gave, which there was no identifying even by feeling, for Rufus had never experienced this feeling before; there was perfected beauty. The head, the hand, dwelt in completion, immutable, indestructible motionless. They moved upon existence quietly as stones which withdraw through water for which there is no floor.