As Haldane composed the form for its last sleep he said: "My dear Mrs. Poland, your faithful watch is ended, your husband suffers no more; now, surely you will yield to my entreaty and go to your room. I will see that everything is properly attended to."
The poor woman was bending over her husband's ashes, almost as motionless as they, and her answer was a low cry as she fell across his body in a swoon.
Haldane lifted her gently up, and carried her from the room.
Crouching at the door of the death-chamber, her eyes dilated with horror, he found poor Amy.
"Is mother dead also?" she gasped.
"No, Miss Amy. She only needs your care to revive speedily. Please lead the way to your mother's apartment."
"I think there is a God, and that he sent you" she whispered.
"You are right," he replied, in the natural hearty tone which is so potent in reassuring the terror-stricken. "Courage, Miss Amy; all will be well at last. Now let me help you like a brother, and when your mother revives, I will give her something to make her sleep; I then wish you to sleep also."
The poor lady revived after a time, and tried to rise that she might return to her husband's room, but fell back in utter weakness.
"Mrs. Poland," said Haldane gently, "you can do no good there. You must live for your children now."
She soon was sleeping under the influence of an opiate.
"Will you rest, too, Miss Amy?" asked Haldane.
"I will try," she faltered; but her large, dark eyes looked as if they never would close again.
Returning to the room over which so deep a hush had fallen, Haldane gave a few directions to the old negress whom he left in charge, and then sought the rest he so greatly needed himself.