After much silent thought he rose, and, from beneath the bureau drew forth two objects into the light--a sack and a small plaster furnace. He placed the furnace in the center of the floor, and half filled it with lighted coals from the grate. Then he poured the contents of the sack upon the burning coals; his hands trembling, and his eyes, fiery as they were, suddenly dimmed by moisture. "Charcoal, good charcoal--such a blessing to the poor! Nelly didn't know what a blessing it was, when I sent her for it this afternoon--that is, yesterday afternoon. It takes fire--it burns--such a mild, rich blue flame! Opium and charcoal are the poor man's best friends. They cost so little, and they save one from so much,"--as he knelt on the floor, he cast his gaze over his shoulder toward the bed--"so very much! They will save us all from so much!" Nelly murmured in her sleep, and rose in bed, and, opening her eyes, gazed at her brother, kneeling by the lighted furnace, with a wild dreamy stare. Then she lay down and slept again. The charcoal burned brightly, its pale blue flame casting a spectral glow over the face of the kneeling man, so haggard and death-stricken. The noxious gas began to fill the room. John rose and went, with unsteady steps to the window, and eagerly inhaled the fresh air. Resting his arms upon the sash, he felt the cold air upon his cheek, and looked out and upward,--there was the dark blue sky set with stars. "In which of them, I wonder, will we all meet again?" he said, in a wandering way. Then he tottered from the window to the bed. The air was stifling. He breathed only in gasps. By the bed again, gazing upon them all,--wife, sister, children,--so beautiful in their slumber. And they began to move restlessly in their sleep, and mutter half-coherent words, and--"In the spring time, John, we'll gather flowers," said Nelly; "You'll be better soon, John," whispered the wife; and all was still again. Back to the window, with unsteady steps, to inhale another mouthful of fresh air--to take another look at the cold, cold winter stars. Brighter burns the charcoal; the pale blue flame hovers there, in the center of the room like an infernal halo. And there is Death in the air. Breathing in gasps, John tottered from the window again. He took the image in one hand, the candle in the other; and thus, on tip-toe, he approached the bed. A very beautiful sight. Little John and little Annie sleeping side by side, a glow upon their cheeks,--Nelly and Annie sleeping hand joined in hand; their beautiful faces invested with a smile that was all quietness and peace. They did not murmur in their sleep this time.