"Missus know 'um all,--missus da'h." Again he points, and she hastens
into the ante-room, when, grasping Franconia by the hand, she stares
at her with breathless anxiety expressed in her face. A pause ensues
in which both seem bewildered. At length Franconia breaks the
silence. "Uncle is gone!" she exclaims, following the words with a
flow of tears.
"Gone!" reiterates the generous-hearted woman, encircling
Franconia's neck with her left arm, and drawing her fondly to her
bosom.
"Yes,--dead!" she continues, sobbing audibly. There is something
touching in the words,--something which recalls the dearest
associations of the past, and touches the fountains of the heart. It
is the soft tone in which they are uttered,--it gives new life to old
images. So forcibly are they called up, that the good woman has no
power to resist her violent emotions: gently she guides Franconia to
the sofa, seats her upon its soft cushion, and attempts to console
her wrecked spirit.
The men-servants are called up,--told to be prepared for orders. One
of them recognises Daddy, and, inviting him into the pantry, would
give him food, Trouble has wasted the old man's appetite; he thinks
of master, but has no will to eat. No; he will see missus, and
proceed back to the prison, there join Harry, and watch over all
that is mortal of master. He thanks Abraham for what he gave him,
declines the coat he would kindly lend him to keep out the chill,
seeks the presence of his mistress (she has become more reconciled),
says, "God bless 'um!" bids her good night, and sallies forth.
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