She was exhausted, but after she could not even whisper, a smile still hovered about her lips, and her hand held that of her husband.
He sat on, apparently content to do so.

When her voice ceased, he did not seem to notice.

He appeared to be lost in thought to which no one had the clue.
Huldah sat as still as a mouse, never speaking, and hoping to escape being spoken to.

Occasionally she placed a piece of coal or wood on the fire, but that was all.

She could not see her aunt's face, but she thought at last she must be asleep, she was so still and quiet.
The silence, broken as it was only by the crackle of the fire, had begun to grow oppressive, when suddenly it was broken by a sound of singing, low, quivering, almost indistinct:-- "For the end--of my--journey--I see-- Many dear to my heart--over there Are watching--and waiting for me.
Over--there, over--there-- I'll soon be--at--home--" Tom Smith tried to draw away his hand, but his wife's hand clung to it, her voice died away.