But each day Dick dragged himself to the window to see if the little woman was visible. And on the tenth day after the baby’s funeral, a black hearse with nodding black plumes, and black horses with jet harness and dangling black tassels, stood at the house opposite; and Dick, with panting breath and wild eyes, crawled down the stairs, and out upon the street, for he seemed choking in the house, and he thought he must hinder those cruel people from taking away the little woman. He could not, could not let her go from him forever, and when he saw them lifting the casket into the hearse, he reached out his arms, tried to cry out and stop them, and then he fell over weak and helpless, with strange sounds ringing in his ears and warm blood spurting from his mouth. When he awoke to consciousness he was lying on his couch, and Dr. Griffin and Grandfather Levy were bending over him with tears in their eyes. He tried to speak, and with each syllable the blood gushed again from his lips. “You mustn’t talk,” said the Doctor. “You are very weak and it may be fatal to you if you do not keep quiet.” He drew the Doctor’s head down close to his lips. “It’s no use tryin’ to save me,” he whispered. “I’d rather go--I couldn’t stand it livin’ on with both of ’em gone. I’ve nothin’ to live for now--no ambition or pleasure left. I’ve had all the pleasure I’ll ever get out of life, Doctor, this year back. It’s kinder to let me go--and--follow my family.” * * * * * The hemorrhage set in anew, and with the red gushing tide, Dick’s soul passed out to seek those of the little woman and the baby. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of How Salvator Won & Other Recitations, by Ella Wheeler Wilcox