.

Then out of the open door came Jacob Dolph, moving with a feeble shuffle
between his son and his old negro coachman--this man and his wife the
only faithful of all the servants. The young man put his father in the
carriage, and the negro went back and locked the doors and brought the
keys to his young master. He mounted to the box, and through the
darkness could be seen a white towel tied around his arm--the old badge
of servitude's mourning.

The oxen were started up, and the two vehicles moved up into Broadway.
They travelled with painful slowness; the horses had to be held in to
keep them behind the cart, for the oxen could be only guided by the
whip, and not by word of mouth. The old man moaned a little at the pace,
and quivered when he heard the distant sound of hammers.

"What is it?" he asked, nervously.

"They are boarding up some of the streets," said his son; "do not fear,
father. Everything is prepared; and if we make no noise, we shall not be
troubled."

"If we can only keep her out of the Potter's Field--the Potter's Field!"
cried the father; "I'll thank God--I'll ask no more--I'll ask no more!"

And then he broke down and cried a little, feebly, and got his son's
hand in the darkness and put on his own shoulder.

It was nearly two when they came to St. Paul's and turned the corner to
the gate. It was dark below, but some frenzied fools were burning
tar-barrels far down Ann Street, and the light flickered on the top of
the church spire. They crossed the churchyard to where a shallow grave
had been dug, half way down the hill. The men lowered the body into it;
the old negro gave them a little _rouleau_ of coin, and they went
hurriedly away into the night.

[Illustration]

The clergyman came out by and by, with the sexton behind him. He stood
high up above the grave, and drew his long cloak about him and lifted an
old pomander-box to his face. He was not more foolish than his fellows;
in that evil hour men took to charms and to saying of spells. Below the
grave and apart, for the curse rested upon them, too, stood Jacob Dolph
and his son, the old man leaning on the arm of the younger. Then the
clergyman began to read the service for the burial of the dead, over
the departed sister--and wife and mother. He spoke low; but his voice
seemed to echo in the stillness. He came forward with a certain
shrinking, and cast the handful of dust and ashes into the grave. When
it was done, the sexton stepped f