gardens; but after his daughter's elopement and his wife's death,
three were discharged, and he let the lands and gardens; and then
another went, and Sarah felt the loneliness so great, that she made
the remaining one sleep in her own room. The house had been frequently
attacked; once, in a fit of despair, her brother-in-law had forced
his way in the night to the old man's side, and but for her prompt
interference, murder would have been done. No wonder, then, that her
shattered nerves trembled as she watched the shortening candle, and
heard the raving of the wind, saw the spectral shadows the broken
plumes that ornamented the canopy of the bed cast upon the fantastic
walls, _felt_ that _his_ hour was at hand, and feared that "he would
die and make no sign;" still, while those waving fantasies passing
to and fro through her active but weakened mind, made her tremble
in every limb, and ooze at every pore; and though unable to read
on steadily, her eyes continued fixed upon the book which her hand
grasped, with the same feeling that made those of old cling to the
altar of their God for sanctuary. Suddenly her father called--and she
started as from a dream--"Sarah!"

She hastened to his side; "Dear father, what do you want?"

"Child, the room is dark; and you had so much light just now. All
is dark. Where are you? But it was better, after all, to put out the
light; wilful waste makes"--

Before the miser had concluded his proverb, the light of _his_
existence was extinguished for ever!