And the very worst
is that ye can't please nobody; but if anything is wanted, ma'am,
just call for me: John Lafayette Flewellen's my name, ma'am." The
man of nerve, with curious indifference, is about to turn away,--to
leave the mourning party to themselves, merely remarking, as he
takes his hand from that of the corpse, that his limbs are becoming
fridgid, fast.
"Stay-a-moment,--warden," says Franconia, sobbing: "When was he
seized with the fever?"
"Day afore yesterday, ma'am; but he didn't complain until yesterday.
That he was in a dangerous way I'm sure I'd no idea." The warden
shrugs his shoulders, and spreads his hands. "My eyes, ma'am, but he
drank strongly of late! Perhaps that, combined with the fever,
helped slide him off?"
"Ah! yes,--it was something else-it was grief! His troubles were his
destroyer." She wipes her eyes, and, with a look of commiseration,
turns from the man whose business it is to look coldly upon
unfortunate dead men.
"There was the things you sent him, ma'am; and he got his gaol
allowance, and some gruel. The law wouldn't allow us to do more for
him,--no, it wouldn't!" He shakes his head in confirmation.
"I wanted old mas'r to let 'um bring doctor; but he said no! he
would meet de doctor what cured all diseases in another world,"
interrupts old Bob, as he draws his seat close to the foot of the
cot, and, with his shining face of grief, gazes on the pale features
of his beloved master.
"Let him lie as he is, till the coroner comes," says the warden,
retiring slowly, and drawing the heavy door after him.
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