Lastly, the two set the room in perfect order, replenished the fire, and finally took up their positions, sitting one on the right, and the other on the left of the body, to watch until daylight. Dr. Prout remained all night with his sorrowing friend, and then, after an early breakfast the next morning, departed to make, at the request of Colonel de Crespigney, the necessary arrangements for the funeral. When Marcel de Crespigney re-entered the room of death he found it filled with an atmosphere of repose that calmed even his perturbed spirit. He went to the table and turned down the white linen cover, and saw the face of the dead soothed into a peaceful beauty such as it had never known in life. He gazed on it for some minutes, and then stooped and pressed his lips to the cold, quiet brow with more tenderness than he had ever kissed the living woman. Then he reverently covered the face again, and stole silently from the room. Little Gloria slept the deep sleep of mental and physical prostration. She did not wake until noon. Then she awoke to memory, and to an agony of grief that refused to be comforted. “And not a lady about de house to look arter de poor chile! Not eben a white ’oman anywhere in reach. An’ me an’ Lamia dat oberloaded with work, along ob dis drea’ful business!” groaned ’Phia, as she trotted from chamber to parlor, and from parlor to kitchen on her multifarious duties. Even in the midst of her lamentations she met relief. In the kitchen she found David Lindsay and his grandmother, just arrived, and waiting to see if they could be of any use. David, on coming to work that morning, had met Dr. Prout and had anxiously inquired if any one was sick at the “house,” and in answer had received the news of Madame de Crespigney’s death. Then remembering the limited resources of service in that small and isolated household, David, with the thoughtfulness of a boy who had long had a man’s responsibilities on his own young shoulders, re-entered his boat and rowed rapidly across to the little sandy isle, to tell his grandmother, and even to suggest her returning with him. The gentle old dame saw even more clearly than her grandson had done, the need they had of her at Promontory Hall. So she lost no time in getting ready to go, and in less than half an hour from the moment when she received the news, she stood in Sophia’s kitchen, earnestly offering her services. “If you’ll only look after de chile, which I b’lieve you is a great favorite ’long o’ her, dat is all as I shall ax ob you,” said ’Phia. And so the sweet old dame “looked after” little Gloria, and comforted her, night and day, during the three days that preparations for the funeral went on. Meanwhile, David Lindsay made himself useful in many ways at the Hall during the day, and at night returned to the little isle to take care of the house in the absence of its mistress.