Very precious to Edith was the memory of those days, when she watched the dying Nina, who, as death drew near, clung closer and closer to her sister, refusing to let her go.

“I want you with me,” she said, one afternoon, when the late autumn rain was beating against the window-pane, and the clouds hung leaden and dull in the Southern sky.  “I want you and Arthur, both, to lead me down to the very edge of the river, and not let go my hands until the big waves wash me away, for Nina’s a wee bit of a girl, and she’ll be afraid to launch out alone upon the rushing stream.  I wish you’d go too, Miggie,—­go over Jordan with me.  Why does God make me go alone?”

“You will not go alone, my darling!” and Edith’s voice was choked with tears as she told the listening Nina of one whose arm would surely hold her up, so that the waters should not overflow.

“It’s the Saviour you mean,” and Nina spoke reverently.  “I loved Him years ago before the buzzing came, but I’ve been so bad since then, that I’m afraid that He’ll cast me off.  Will He, think?  When I tell him I am little Nina Bernard come from Sunnybank, will He say, ’Go ‘way old crazy Nina, that tore poor Arthur boy’s hair?’”

“No, no, oh, no,” and Edith sobbed impetuously as she essayed to comfort the bewildered girl, whose mind grasped but faintly the realities of eternity.

“And you’ll stand on the bank till I am clear across,” she said, when Edith had ceased speaking, “You and Arthur stand where I can see you if I should look back.  And, Miggie, I have a presentiment that Nina’ll go to-night, but I don’t want any body here except you and Arthur.  I remember when grandma died the negroes howled so dismally, and they didn’t love her one bit either.  They used to make mouths at her, and hide her teeth.  But they do love me, and their screeches will get my head all in a twist.  I’d rather they wouldn’t know till morning; then when they ask for me Arthur’ll tell them sorry like that Nina’s dead; Nina’s gone into the daylight, and left a world of love to them who have been so kind to her.  Don’t let them crowd up around me, or make too much ado.  It isn’t worth the while, for I’m of no account, and you’ll be good to them Miggie—­good to the poor ignorant blacks.  They are your’s after me, and I love them a heap.  Don’t let them be sold, will you?”

Here Nina paused, too much exhausted to talk longer, and when about dark Arthur came in, he found her asleep with Edith at her side, while upon her face and about her nose there was a sharp, pitched look he had never seen before.  Intuitively, however, he knew that look was the harbinger of death, and when Edith told him what Nina had said, he felt that ere the morning came his broken lily would be gone.