She was restless.
"Will my love hear a hymn ?" "It will wake papa." Mrs.Benoit cared nothing for that.

Her care was her poor little charge.
She began immediately one of the hymns that were always ready on her tongue, and which were wonderfully soothing to Daisy.

Juanita was old, but her voice was sweet yet and clear; and she sang with a deal of quiet spirit.
"'A few more days or years at most, My troubles will be o'er; I hope to join the heavenly host On Canaan's happy shore.
My raptured soul shall drink and feast In love's unbounded sea; The glorious hope of endless rest Is ravishing to me.'" Mr.Randolph raised his head from leaning against the door-post, and turned it to listen; with a look of lowering impatience.

The screen of the hanging curtain was between him and the couch, and the look did nobody any harm.
"'O come, my Saviour, come away, And bear me to the sky! Nor let thy chariot wheels delay-- Make haste and bring it nigh: I long to see thy glorious face, And in thy image shine; To triumph in victorious grace, And be forever thine.'" Mr.Randolph's chair here grated inharmoniously on the floor, as if he were moving; but Juanita went on without heeding it.
"'Then will I tune my harp of gold To my eternal King.
Through ages that can ne'er be told I'll make thy praises ring.
All hail, eternal Son of God, Who died on Calvary! Who bought me with his precious blood, From endless misery.'" Mr.Randolph stood by Mrs.Benoit's chair.
"My good woman," he said in suppressed tones, "this is a strange way to put a patient to sleep." "As your honour sees!" replied the black woman placidly.

Mr.Randolph looked.