“I understand you, sister”—­was my low answer.  “Depend on all I have said—­all you can wish.”

A gentle pressure of the hand was the token of contentment with which this assurance was received.

From that moment it seemed to me that Grace was less than usual attached to the things of the world.  Nevertheless, her interest in those she loved, and who loved her, continued to the last.

“Let all the slaves that wish to see me, enter,” Grace said, rousing herself to perform a trying but necessary duty.  “I never can repay them for all they have done for me; but I trust them to you, Miles, with confidence.”

Lucy glided from the room, and in a few minutes the long train of dark faces was seen approaching the door.  The grief of these untutored beings, like their mirth, is usually loud and vociferous; but Lucy, dear, considerate, energetic Lucy—­energetic even in the midst of a sorrow that nearly crushed her to the earth—­had foreseen all this, and the blacks were admitted only on the condition of their preserving a command over themselves in the interview.

Grace spoke to every one of the females, taking leave of each calmly and with some useful and impressive admonition, while all the older men were also noticed personally.

“Go, and rejoice that I am so soon released from the cares of this world,” she said, when the sad ceremony was over.  “Pray for me, and for yourselves.  My brother knows my wishes in your behalf, and will see them executed.  God bless you, my friends, and have you in his holy keeping.”

So great was the ascendency Lucy had obtained over these poor simple creatures during the short time they had been under her mild but consistent rule, that each and all left the room as quiet as children, awe-struck by the solemnity of the scene.  Still, the oldest and most wrinkled of their cheeks were wet with tears, and it was only by the most extraordinary efforts that they were enabled to repress the customary outbreakings of sorrow.  I had gone to a window to conceal my own feelings after this leave-taking, when a rustling in the bushes beneath it caught my ear.  Looking out, there lay Neb, flat on his face, his Herculean frame extended at full length, his hands actually gripping the earth under the mental agony he endured, and yet the faithful fellow would not even utter a groan, lest it might reach his young mistress’s ears, and disquiet her last moments.  I afterwards ascertained he had taken that post in order that he might learn from time to time, by means of signs from Chloe, how things proceeded in the chamber above.  Lucy soon recalled me to my old post, Grace having expressed a wish to that effect.

“It will be but an hour, and we shall all be together again,” Grace said, startling us all by the clearness and distinctness of her enunciation.  “The near approach of death places us on a height whence we can see the entire world and its vanities at a single view.”