there was a quite peculiar quiet in the
German's room. Though you strained your ear most carefully you caught no
sound of breathing.

He was not gone, for the old coat still hung on the chair--the coat
that was to be put on when he met any one; and the bundle and stick were
ready for tomorrow's long march. The old German himself lay there, his
wavy black hair just touched with grey thrown back upon the pillow.
The old face was lying there alone in the dark, smiling like a little
child's--oh, so peacefully. There is a stranger whose coming, they say,
is worse than all the ills of life, from whose presence we flee away
trembling; but he comes very tenderly sometimes. And it seemed almost as
though Death had known and loved the old man, so gently it touched him.
And how could it deal hardly with him--the loving, simple, childlike old
man?

So it smoothed out the wrinkles that were in the old forehead, and fixed
the passing smile, and sealed the eyes that they might not weep again;
and then the short sleep of time was melted into the long, long sleep of
eternity.

"How has he grown so young in this one night?" they said when they found
him in the morning.

Yes, dear old man; to such as you time brings no age. You die with the
purity and innocence of your childhood upon you, though you die in your
grey hairs.

Chapter 1.IX. He Sees A Ghost.

Bonaparte stood on the ash-heap. He espied across the plain a moving
speck and he chucked his coat-tails up and down in expectancy of a
scene.

The wagon came on slowly. Waldo laid curled among the sacks at the
back of the wagon, the hand in his breast resting on the sheep-shearing
machine. It was finished now. The right thought had struck him the
day before as he sat, half asleep, watching the water go over the
mill-wheel. He muttered to himself with half-closed eyes:

"Tomorrow smooth the cogs--tighten the screws a little--show it to
them." Then after a pause--"Over the whole world--the whole world--mine,
that I have made!" He pressed the little wheels and pulleys in his
pocket till they cracked. Presently his muttering became louder--"And
fifty pounds--a black hat for my dadda--for Lyndall a blue silk,
very light; and one purple like the earth-bells, and white shoes." He
muttered on--"A box full, full of books. They shall tell me all, all,
all," he added, moving his fingers desiringly: "why the crystals grow in
such beautiful shapes; why lightning runs to the iron; why