"Don't you think he ought to have a clergyman?"
"He would be dead before a clergyman could be brought here."
This rapid, low-toned conversation took place at the foot of the stairs, out of hearing of the dying man, whose senses were fast failing.
Mrs. Winterose then came down into the room and took her seat by the bed, and from time to time bathed the sufferer's brow with her own preparation of aromatic vinegar, or moistened his lips with brandy and water.
Tabby, Libby, and Gem sat around the fire. The doctor and the lawyer stood conferring in a low tone at a distant window.
Thus the death-watch was kept in the silence of awe, until Miss Tabby, unable to resist her desire to do something for the sufferer, crept up to the side of the cot opposite to which her mother sat, and "shook his sands," by asking him in a low tone:
"Is there no one in the world you would like to see, or to send a message to?"
"No—no one—but Sybil Berners—and I have written a message to—her; but—to see her—is impossible," gasped the man at intervals.
"Tabby, go sit down and keep quiet. You only worry the poor soul!" said Mrs. Winterose.
Miss Tabby complied, and the silent death-watch was resumed, and continued unbroken except by the howling of the wind, the beating of the rain, and the rattling of the leafless trees, until at length—inexplicable sound!—wheels were heard, grating over the rough, neglected avenue, and approaching the house.