"'It is very sick,' she said, 'but if you will use the remedies I
advise, I think you can save it.' And she told me what to do, and
helped me all she could; but she did not lay a finger on the
little darling, though from the way she watched it I saw that her
heart was set on his getting better. And he did; in an hour he was
sleeping peacefully, and the terrible weight was gone from my
heart and from hers. When the storm stopped, and she could leave
the house, she gave me a kiss; but the look she gave him meant
more than kisses. God must have forgotten her goodness to me that
night when He let her die so pitiable a death."

At the minister's house they were commenting upon the look of
serenity observable in her dead face.

"I have known her for thirty years," her pastor declared, "and
never before have I seen her wear a look of real peace. It is
wonderful, considering the circumstances. Do you think she was so
weary of her life's long struggle that she hailed any release from
it, even that of violence?"

A young man, a lawyer, visiting them from New York, was the only
one to answer.

"I never saw the woman you are talking about," said he, "and know
nothing of the circumstances of her death beyond what you have
told me. But from the very incongruity between her expression and
the violent nature of her death, I argue that there are depths to
this crime which have not yet been sounded."