[CHAPTER XVIII.]
A SONG IN THE NIGHT.
It snowed steadily all day; and evening closed around them in the midst of this soft, noiseless storm. The roads were beginning to be blocked up, the houses were hooded in ermine, and no one passed by the windows. Not a soul had been in that day. So, after the lamp was lighted, they drew closer together. Hal read a while from a book of poems that Mrs. Howard had lent him.
"It is nearly bed-time," he said at length.
"I don't feel a bit sleepy."
"Hal," began Granny, stretching out her thin hand, "don't leave me. I feel so strange."
"Worse, my own dear?"
"Not in pain, but sort of restful, as if I'd come to something—no, I'm not afraid, Hal. I've been praying all along that I might die, and maybe it's coming. I'm a poor old body, not worth much,—and Joe's there, you know."
She gave her head a feeble nod. Hal swallowed over a great sob.