She tried to pray, but her heart seemed to lie dead in her bosom, and no prayer would rise from it.

It was the time of all times when, if ever, prayer must be the one reasonable thing--and pray she could not.

In her dull stupor she did not hear Beenie's knock.

The old woman entered, and found her on her knees, with her forehead on one of the dead hands, while the white face of her master lay looking up to heaven, as if praying for the living not yet privileged to die.

Then first was the peace of death broken.