Beenie gave a loud cry, and turned and ran, as if to warn the neighbors that Death was loose in the town.
Thereupon, as if Death were a wild beast yet lurking in it, the house was filled with noise and tumult; the sanctuary of the dead was invaded by unhallowed presence; and the poor girl, hearing behind her voices she did not love, raised herself from her knees, and, without lifting her eyes, crept from the room and away to her own.
"Follow her, George," said his father, in a loud, eager whisper.
"You've got to comfort her now.

That's your business, George.

There's your chance!" The last words he called from the bottom of the stair, as George sped up after her.

"Mary! Mary, dear," he called as he ran.
But Mary had the instinct--it was hardly more--to quicken her pace, and lock the door of her room the moment she entered.

As she turned from it, her eye fell upon her watch--where it lay, silent and disfigured, on her dressing-table; and, with the sight, the last words of her father came back to her.