old
nurse. "I thought he'd ha' been here. This'll be my last
night, and I'd like to spend it hearin' good things."

"Would you like me to send for anybody," said Elizabeth.

"Could ye send for _him?_" said Karen earnestly.

"Not in time. No, Karen, -- there'd be no time to send a
message from here to Mannahatta and get him here to-night."

She jogged herself back and forward a little while on her
rocking-chair; and then said she would go to bed. Elizabeth
helped her into the little room, formerly Asahel's, opening
out of the kitchen, which she had insisted Karen should take
during her illness; and after she was put to bed, came again
and asked her what she should do for her. Karen requested to
have the Bible read.

Elizabeth set open the kitchen door, took a low seat by
Karen's bedside, and established herself with her book. It was
strange work to her, to read the Bible to a person who thought
herself dying. She, who so lately had to do with everything
else but the Bible, now seated by the bedside of an old black
woman, and the Bible the only matter in hand between the two.
Karen's manner made it more strange. She was every now and
then breaking in upon the reading, or accompanying it, with
remarks and interjections. Sometimes it was "Hallelujah!" --
sometimes, "That's true, that's true!" -- sometimes, and very
often, "Praise the Lord!" Not loud, nor boisterous; they were
most of the time little underbreath words said to herself,
words seemingly that she could not help, the good of which she
took and meant for nobody else's edification. They were
however very disagreeable and troublesome to Elizabeth's ears
and thoughts; she had half a mind to ask Karen to stop them;
but the next sighing "That's true!" -- checked her; if it was
such a comfort to the old woman to hold counsel with herself,
and Elizabeth could offer nothing better, the least she could
do was to let her alone. And then Elizabeth grew accustomed to
it; and at last thoughts wandered a little by turns to take up
their new trade of wondering at herself and at the new,
unwonted life she seemed beginning to lead. There was a
singular pleasantness in what she was doing; she found a grave
sweet consciousness of being about the right work; but
presently to her roving spirit the question arose whether
_this_, -- this new and certainly very substantial pleasure, --
were perhaps the chief kind she was hereafter to look forward
to, or find in this life; -- an