He had not the heart to stop her; she did not want to die,--why should she?
the world was a great, warm, beautiful nest for the little cripple,--why need he show her the cold without?
He saw her at last go near the door where old Yare sat outside, then heard her breathless cry, and a sob.

A moment after the old man came into the room, carrying her, and, laying her down on the settee, chafed her hands, and misshapen head.
"What ails her ?" he said, looking up, bewildered, to Holmes.

"We've killed her among us." She laughed, though the great eyes were growing dim, and drew his coarse gray hair into her hand.
"Yoh wur long comin'," she said, weakly.

"I hunted fur yoh every day,--every day." The old man had pushed her hair back, and was reading the sunken face with a wild fear.
"What ails her ?" he cried.

"Ther' 's somethin' gone wi' my girl.