The blood rushed to her face, and her whole form trembled with an uncontrollable agitation; her bosom heaved with emotion, and the beatings of her heart were heard as plain as the click of the clock on the mantlepiece.  Stooping over the dead body she clasped it in her arms, and pressed the bloodless and inanimate lips in a fond embrace.  It was the promptings of a mother’s heart.  She had nursed the child when an infant, and had seen her grow up as beautiful as the fairies so often described by the writers of fiction.  She had looked forward for the day when the child would bloom into womanhood, and be a blessing and a comfort in her old age.  All these were now forever blighted.  Not even the presence of her son awoke a thought within her that the living remained to claim her care and affection.  He was but a link in the chain of her paternal love, and the bonds having been broken she looked on the shattered fragment and sought not to unite what yet remained in an unhurt state.

When she rose from her stooping posture her face had resumed its cold and rigid appearance.  Turning to the old negro who was looking on in silent wonder and grief, she enquired in a calm tone:  “Have you any of the money left that I gave you this morning?”

“Yes, missis,” she replied.  “I got some left.”

“How much is it?” asked Mrs. Wentworth.

“Twelve dollars,” she answered, counting the notes that she had taken from her pocket.

“Will that be enough to pay for a coffin for my child?” Mrs. Wentworth enquired.

“I don’t know, but I spect it will do,” replied the old negro.

“To make sure that it will be enough,” observed Mrs. Wentworth, “here is some more money to pay for it.”  As she spoke she handed several notes to the old woman.  “And now,” she continued, “I want you to go out and order a coffin, as I want the child to be buried to-morrow morning.”

“I spec I better get de parson to preach over de poor chile,” remarked the old woman, who was a strict member of the church, and very superstitious in relation to the evils that would accrue from a departure from all that is laid down in religious tenets.

“Yes, yes!” Mrs. Wentworth replied.  “But there is no necessity of going for him this evening, wait until early in the morning, that time will do well enough.”

The old woman curtsied and moved out of the room.  Arriving in town she entered an undertaker’s shop and enquired if he could furnish a coffin by the next morning.  On his answering in the affirmative she paid him twenty dollars, the amount charged, and hastened back to her cabin.  The interest manifested by this old woman, was that usually shown to all persons in distress by the faithful slave of the South.  She had not even learned Mrs. Wentworth’s name, but the sight of her sad and haggard features, as well as the death of Ella, had awaken a feeling of sympathy for the unfortunate family; thus we see her obeying the orders of her accidental guests, without making any objections.  But to return to the dead.