“Go to bed, Miss ’Lizabeth,” said Clam.  “I’ll see to her.”

But Elizabeth did not move so much as an eyelid.

“I don’t want nothin’,” said Karen presently.  “Miss Lizzie, if you see the Governor —­ tell him —­”

“Tell him what?”

“Tell him to hold on, —­ will you? —­ the way his mother went and the way he’s a goin’.  Tell him to hold on till he gets there.  Will you tell him?”

“Certainly!  I will tell him anything you please.”

Karen was silent for a little space, and then began again.

“Is’t your way?”

Elizabeth’s lips moved a little, but they closed and she made no answer.

“Mis’ Landholm went that way, and Governor’s goin’, and I’m goin’ too.

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

“Do you feel better, Karen?” said Elizabeth interrupting her.

“I’m goin’ —­ I don’ know how soon axactly, Miss Lizzie —­ but I feel it.  I am all givin’ away.  It’s time.  I’ve seen my life all through, and I’m ready.  I’m ready —­ praise the Lord.  I was ready a great while ago, but it wa’n’t the Lord’s time and now if he pleases, I’m ready.”

“Wouldn’t you feel better if you were to go to your own room and lie down?”

Karen made no answer for some time and then only was half understood to say that “this was the best place.”  Elizabeth did not move.  Clam fetched a thick coarse coverlid and wrapping herself in it, lay down at full length on the floor.

“Go to bed, Miss ’Lizabeth, —­ I’m settled.  I’ll see to her.  I guess she ain’t goin’ afore mornin’.”

“You will go to sleep, Clam, and then she will have nobody to do anything for her.”

“I’ll wake up once in a while, Miss ’Lizabeth, to see she don’t do nothin’ to me.”

Elizabeth stood another minute, thinking bitterly how invaluable Winthrop would be, in the very place where she knew herself so valueless.  Another sharp contrast of their two selves; and then she drew up a chair to the fire and sat down too; determined at least to do the little she could do, give her eyes and her presence.  Clam’s entreaties and representations were of no avail.  Karen made none.

They watched by her, or at least Elizabeth did, through hour after hour.  She watched alone, for Clam slept and snored most comfortably; and Karen’s poor head much of the time rested in her hands.  Whether conscious or unconscious, she was very quiet; and her watcher trimmed the fire and mused with no interruption.  At first with much fear and trembling; for she did not know how soon Karen’s prophecy might come true; but as the night wore on and no change was to be seen or felt, this feeling quieted down and changed into a very sober and sad review of all the things of her own life, in the past and in the future.  The present was but a point, she did not dwell on it; yet in that point was the sweetest and fairest thing her mind had in possession; her beginning