chimney and across the roof-tree, to the roll of the chariot-wheels
which were to carry away the parting soul; the tap and rattle of
sleet and wind at the windows to the summons of demons, impatient at
Death's delay.

"The Lord send him an easy death, and let him go up, instead of
down!" she groaned aloud, once.

But the dubious shake of the head accompanying the benevolent
petition betokened her disbelief in the possibility of a favorable
reply. In her articles of faith it was only by a miracle that a
"no-account white man," picked up out of the highway, and whose
pockets were barren as were those she had examined, could get an
impetus in that direction.

The stormy dawn was revealing, with dreary distinctness, the shabby
disorder of the lumber-room, when Dr. Ritchie appeared in his
dressing-gown, rubbing his eyes, and yawning audibly.

"Gone--hey?" was his comment upon the negress' movements.

She had bound a strip of linen about the lank jaws; combed back the
grizzled hair from the forehead into sleek respectability; crossed
the hands at the wrists, as only dead hands are ever laid;
straightened the limbs, and was in the act of spreading a clean
sheet over her finished work.

"Nigh upon an hour since, sir," she responded, respectfully.

"He did not revive at all after I left him?"