“What’s the matter, Karen?”

Karen’s reply was to break forth into a tremulous scrap of her old song, —­

“‘I’m going, —­ I’m going, —­ I’m going, —­’”

“Stop,” said Elizabeth.  “Don’t sing.  Tell me what’s the matter.”

“It’s nothin’ else, Miss Lizzie,” said the old woman.  “I’m goin’ —­ I think I be.”

“Why do you think so?  How do you feel?”

“I don’t feel no ways, somehow; —­ it’s a kinder givin’ away.  I think I’m just goin’, ma’am.”

“But what ails you, Karen?”

“It’s time,” said Karen, jerking herself backwards and forwards in her rocking-chair.  “I’m seventy years and more old.  I hain’t got no more work to do.  I’m goin’; and I’m ready, praise the Lord!  They’re most all gone; —­ and the rest is comin’ after; —­ it’s time old Karen was there.”

“But that’s no sign you mayn’t live longer,” said Elizabeth.  “Seventy years is nothing.  How do you feel sick?”

“It’s all over, Miss Lizzie,” said the old woman.  “Its givin’ away.  I’m goin’ —­ I know I be.  The time’s come.”

“I will send Anderese for a doctor —­ where is there one?”

Karen shivered and put her head in her hands, before she spoke.

“There ain’t none —­ I don’t want none —­ there was Doctor Kipp to Mountain Spring, but he ain’t no’ count; and he’s gone away.”

“Clam, do speak to Anderese and ask him about it, and tell him to go directly, if there is any one he can go for. —­ What can I do for you, Karen?”

“I guess nothin’, Miss Lizzie. —­ If the Governor was here, he’d pray for me; but it ain’t no matter —­ I’ve been prayin’ all my life —­ It’s no matter if I can’t pray good just right now.  The Lord knows all.”

Elizabeth stood silent and still.

“Shall I —­ would you like to have me read for you?” she asked somewhat timidly.

“No,” said Karen —­ “not now —­ I couldn’t hear.  Read for yourself, Miss Lizzie.  I wish the Governor was here.”

What a throbbing wish to the same effect was in Elizabeth’s heart!  She stood, silent, sorrowful, dismayed, watching Karen, wondering at herself in her changed circumstances and life and occupation; and wondering if she were only going down into the valley of humiliation, or if she had got to the bottom.  And, almost thinking Karen to be envied if she were, as she said, ‘going.’

“What’s the matter?” said Rose and her night-cap at the other door.

“Karen don’t feel very well.  Don’t come here, Rose.”

“What are you there for?”

“I want to be here.  You go to bed and keep quiet —­ I’ll tell you another time.”

“Is she sick?”

“Yes —­ I don’t know —­ Go in, Rose, and be quiet!”

Which Rose did.  Clam came back and reported that there was no doctor to be sent for, short of a great many miles.  Elizabeth’s heart sunk fearfully.  What could she and her companions do with a dying woman? —­ if she were really that.  Karen crept nearer the fire, and Clam built it up and made it blaze.  Then she stood on one side, and her young mistress on the other.