Cora had risen from her chair and was now standing by the bed. But on the bed lay a little, still, fair form, with hands folded over its breast, with the eyes shut down forever, and all over the fair, wan, placid face was "the peace of God which passeth all understanding."
"What is this?" demanded Old Aaron Rockharrt, as he came up to the bed.
"Look at her. She rests at last. I have been with her twenty years, and this is the first time I have ever seen her rest in peace."
Old Aaron Rockharrt stood like a stone beside the bed, gazing down on the dead.
"She is safe now, never more to be startled, or frightened, or tortured by any one. 'Safe, where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest,'" continued Cora.
Still Old Aaron stood like a stone beside the bed and gazed down on the dead.
Suddenly, without moving or withdrawing his gaze from where it rested, he asked in a low, gruff tone:
"How did this happen?"
"She fainted in her chair, and died in that faint."
"When? where? from what?"