and mouth'd
"Richard--Freeman--Pocket-book--The Key, the Key!" Look'd at
me piteously. 'Twould melt one's Heart to see his Eyes.

I did thrust my hand into the breast of his blue
Broad-cloath Coat, and draw forth his Pocket-Book. 'Twas in
Dark Green leather, & upon it the Arms of our House. There
were bank-notes in't, some silver, two or three folded
papers, and one in a small silk Cover, put by itself. I saw
his Fading Eyes brighten as I held it up. He maw'd,
"Key--Freeman--" and puff'd with his Lips, and fell
Unconscious. I slipt the Book back into his breast, put the
silk-covered paper in mine own, and ran out of the Room,
Calling Loudly for help.

He dy'd that Night. And when I look'd at the "Key" 'twas
naught but a silly Verse. Yet I was doubtful of Giving it to
Freeman. Instead, I did show it to old Shooba.

"I will ask my Snake if he knows anything of Keyes," said
Shooba. And remembering the Overseer, I did not smile, but
gave him the Paper. I like not to think of Shooba's Snake.

Then buried we mine Uncle in the Hynds tomb and my Aunt was
left to wander ghostlike, seeking for what she should never
find.--Oh, why did not they leave Richard and me alone!

I repent not. But I am Troubled because of Richard who comes
in the Night and looks at me, and asks, without anger, only
with Sorrow, "_Was it well done, Jessamine?_" I answer,
weeping; "Richard, it was to be. You made me Love you,
Richard, and you put me by. For which Cause, and for that
their Pride was beyond Bearing, did I pull down the Roof of
Hynds House over their heads, and these my Hands did push
you into your Grave. But go you back to Sleep, my dearest
Dear. I shall Find mine Own Grave shortly, and then I shall
be able to come closer to you. When I am Dead, Richard, you
will understand."

Sometimes he will go, looking at me over his Sholder with
Eyes so sad that for Pity I must weep mine own eyes Blind.
But sometimes he will say, in a Voice none may hear but me:
"Cruel, cruel Jessamine! You shall not come near me even
when you are Dead: You shall be Farther from me than when we
two walk'd Quick under the Sun. Never, never did you truly
Love me: I know, the Dead being Wiser than the Living! 'T is
Emily Lov'd me truest."

And oh, thou awful, fa