"Like one distracted poor man at first, but he is quite calm now, though one may see by his face how much it costs him. 'Tis enough to wring one's heart to see him smile and speak cheerfully to his poor wife, and then turn to the window and stifle his grief. What could ever have possessed him to bring a woman in her condition into a crowd passes my guessing. If the poor thing dies, some folks will have murder on their souls." Mrs. Crump and Betsy had come home by that time, so there was no more need for our services. And Mrs. Thorpe sent us to our own room with the recommendation that we should go to bed early, as we had had such a fatiguing day. "You need have no fear!" said Mrs. Thorpe. "My nephew will stay in the house all night, and he has brought with him two or three sturdy sailors from his own ship, to garrison the fort, as he says." This news produced a wonderfully reviving effect on Betsy's sinking spirits. She at once made known her willingness to sit up too, that she might be on hand if help were wanted. "Yes, I dare say!" returned Mrs. Thorpe. "You go to bed, and don't let me hear your voice again this night. Do you go to bed too, my dear young ladies, and don't forget the poor woman in your prayers, for she needs them, if ever distressed creature did." "Let us say the Litany of the Holy Virgin for her!" said I, when we were alone together. Amabel was not quite sure, whether or no it would be right to do so for a heretic; but at last she agreed, and we went through it devoutly enough, addressing the Lord's mother in a way that seems to me now to be sheer idolatry. I was a long time falling asleep, for when the necessity for action was over, I found out for the first time that I had been scared; and though I did not have a fit of the nerves like Betty, I started at every sound, and strained my ears to hear every movement in the other part of the house. It was not till cock-crowing that I fairly fell asleep. Nevertheless, I waked rather early. The house was very still, and a late robin was singing sweetly in the garden. I could hear some one stepping about softly now and then, but that was all. I dressed and opened our parlor door. That of the room opposite was open, as was also the window, which I rather wondered to see. The room way very neat, and Mrs. Thorpe worn from her vigil, and with traces of tears on her bright face, was just drawing the snowy curtains together. As she caught my eye, she beckoned me, and as I came to her side, she softly parted them again, and turned down a fine white sheet which covered the bed. There lay the poor woman; her marble face beautiful with the peacefully joyful smile of death, and oh me—on her arm lay like a little waxen image—a dead baby.