“Weel he’s a very light way o’ carryin himself, for a minister o’ the gospel, I must say”.

“He is cheerful, to be sure, and sympathizes with the people, and helps them in their daily labor sometimes, if that is what you refer to.  I am sure that is right, and I like him for it”, said Adele.

“Weel!  I see he’s a’ in a’ with you, noo”, said Mrs. McNab, at last rising from the table.  “I’ll go up noo and tak’ leave o’ the patient”.

“No, no”, said Adele.  “He is sleeping.  He must not be disturbed on any account.  His life may depend upon this slumber remaining unbroken”.

She rose involuntarily and placed herself against the door leading to the stairs.

Mrs. McNab grew red with anger, at being thus foiled.  Turning aside to hide her vexation, she waddled across the room, took her bonnet and shawl from a peg she had appropriated to her special use, and proceeded to invest herself for her departure.

“Weel!  I s’pose ye’ll expect me to come when ye send for me”, said she, turning round in the doorway with a grotesque distortion of her face intended for an ironical smile.

“That is just as you please, Aunt Patty.  We shall be happy to see you whenever you choose to come.  Good-by”.

“Good by”, said Mrs. McNab in a quacking, quavering, half resentful tone, as she closed the door behind her.

Adele went immediately to the adjoining pantry, called Bess, a tidy looking mulatto, gave her directions for the morning work and then went up stairs to relieve her mother.  Mrs. Dubois made signs to her that she preferred not to resign her post.  But Adele silently insisted she should do so.

After her mother had left the room, she placed herself near the bedside that she might observe the countenance and the breathing of the invalid.  His face was pale as that of death.  His breath came and went almost imperceptibly.  The physician had excluded every ray of sunshine and a hush, like that of the grave, reigned in the apartment.  In her intercourse with the people of the settlement, Adele had often witnessed extreme illness and several dying scenes; but she had never before felt herself so oppressed and awestruck as now.  As she sat there alone with the apparently dying man, she felt that a silent, yet mighty struggle was going on between the forces of life and death.  She feared death would obtain the victory.  By a terrible fascination, her eyes became fixed on the ghastly face over which she fancied she could perceive, more and more distinctly, shadows cast by the hand of the destroyer.  Every moment she thought of recalling her mother, but feared that the slightest jarring movement of the atmosphere might stop at once that feeble respiration.  So she remained, watching terror stricken, waiting for the last, absolute silence,—­the immovable repose.

Suddenly, she heard a long, deep-drawn sigh.  She saw the head of the sufferer turn gently on one side, pressing the pillow.  A color—­the faintest in the world, stole over the features.  The countenance gradually settled into a calm, natural expression.  The respiration became stronger and more regular.  In a few moments, he slept as softly as a little child.