"Since you wish it--yes, without fail. You will explain matters when we meet there?" "They will explain themselves. Don't forget." The day wore on, and everything went on in its usual manner, until just before Mr. Delancey's dinner hour, when, to the surprise of all, the loud report of a pistol was heard, coming from the little court, just at the back part of the store. As its echo died away, all those clerks not at the moment engaged, rushed to the long windows, and sprang through into the court, to learn what the matter was. Guly was the first on the spot, and to his horror and amazement, found Jeff lying on the ground, weltering in his blood, but still showing signs of life. "Jeff!" he exclaimed, bending over him, "what have you done!" "Oh--Massa--Guly"--gasped the negro, turning his dimming eyes to the boy's face, "you'se come with your blue eyes to light me to Heaven. Couldn't lib longer, and hab de master dat I lubbed tink me a robber. I'se tried allus to be a good nigger, an' hope's I'll go to de good place." "God grant it." "Young Massa, is dis death?" "'Tis coming, Jeff." "Let me pray; I only knows one prayer, an' it's so short." "Say it." "'Now I lay me'--oh, I'se goin' fast, young massa." "Go on." "'Down to sleep'--Massa Guly dis long sleep." Guly took his hand. "'I pray de Lord my--soul--to keep; an'--should--I die'--Oh, dis is de wrong prayer--Bressed Lord, forgive my sins, and take me to dat Heaven where de white folks go, dat I may see Massa Guly, wid his white wings on. Good-bye, young massa. Last at my side in death, I'll be fust at yours in Heaven." With a convulsive effort, the dying man turned upon his side, the limbs grew rigid, the death-rattle shook an instant in his throat, and poor Jeff was dead. Guly left the negro's side, to acquaint Mr. Delancey, who had remained sitting stiffly in his chair, of the facts. The merchant listened unmoved, but ordered the body to be sent to his house, and a longer or better ordered funeral never passed through the streets of New-Orleans, than that which next day bore poor Jeff to his last resting-place. Whether or not that Master felt he had wronged a true and faithful slave, could not be told; but all he could do to show he honored his memory, was done; and as much expense and pomp were displayed in those last rites, as ever were lavished over a white man's bones.[A] [Footnote A: A fact.] "Everything ready now, Minny?" said Della, glancing tearfully around her sumptuous apartments. "Everything is prepared, Miss. Shall we go?" "Sure you are able to walk to the carriage, Minny?" "Oh, yes, Miss; certain of it."