At sight of the orphan, he started slightly, and said,—
“Is my sister sick?”
“I don’t know, but she is sleeping unusually late. I thought it best not to disturb her.”
The look of dread that swept over his countenance frightened her, and she rose as he moved hastily to the bedside.
“Salome, open the blinds. Quick! quick!”
She sprang to the window, threw the shutters wide open, and hastened back. Dr. Grey’s hand was on his sister’s wrist, and his ear pressed against her heart,—strained to catch some faint pulsation. His head went down on her pillow, and Salome held her breath.
“Oh, Janet! My dear, patient, good sister! This is indeed hard to bear. To die alone—unsoothed—unnoticed; with no kind hands about you! To die—without one farewell word!”
He hid his face in his hands, and Salome staggered to the bed, and grasped Miss Jane’s rigid, icy fingers.
In the silence of midnight, Death stole her spirit from its clay garments, and while she slept peacefully had borne her beyond the confines of Time, and left her resting forever in the City Celestial.