uick! quick!"

She sprang to the window, threw the shutters wide open, and hastened
back. Dr. Grey's hand was on his sister's wrist, and his ear pressed
against her heart,--strained to catch some faint pulsation. His head
went down on her pillow, and Salome held her breath.

"Oh, Janet! My dear, patient, good sister! This is indeed hard to
bear. To die alone--unsoothed--unnoticed; with no kind hands about
you! To die--without one farewell word!"

He hid his face in his hands, and Salome staggered to the bed, and
grasped Miss Jane's rigid, icy fingers.

In the silence of midnight, Death stole her spirit from its clay
garments, and while she slept peacefully had borne her beyond the
confines of Time, and left her resting forever in the City Celestial.

A life dedicated to pure aims and charitable deeds had been rewarded
with a death as painless as the slumber of a tired child on its
mother's bosom, and, without struggle or premonition, the soul had
slipped from the bondage of flesh into the Everlasting Peace that
remaineth for the children of God.

It was impossible to decide at what hour she had died; and when the
members of the appalled household were questioned, Muriel and Miss
Dexter stated that she had kissed them good night and appeared as well
as usual at her customary time of retiring; and Rachel testified that
after she was in bed, she rang her bell and directed her to tell the
cook that as Dr. Grey would probably come home about daylight, she
must get up early and have a cup of coffee ready when he arrived.
Sobbing passionately, Rachel added,--

"When I asked her if I should put out the lamp, she said, 'No; Ulpian
may lose his patient, and come home sad, and then he will come in and
talk to me awhile.' And just as I was leaving the room, she called to
me, 'Rachel, what coat did Ulpian wear? It turns so cool now before
daylight that he will take cold if he has on that linen one.' I told
her I did not know, and she would not be satisfied till I went to his
room and found that the linen coat was hanging in the closet, and the
gray flannel one was missing. Then she opened her Bible and said, 'Ah,
that is all right. The flannel one will do very well, and my boy will
be comfortable.'"

Dr. Grey's grief was deep, but silent; and, during the dreary day and
night that succeeded, he would allow no one to approach him except
Muriel, whose soft little hands, and tearful, tender caresses, seemed
in some degree to c