It came to pass as George had said.

One cold, rainy day when the wind rustled the fallen leaves and sighed through all the bare branches, he came haltingly up to the end of his lonely pilgrimage.

It was given to little John Jay to hold his hand and look into his eyes as Death swung up the bar and bade him pass on.
A wondering smile flitted across the beloved face; then that mysterious silence that bars all sight and speech fell between the freed spirit hastening up the eternal highway and the trembling boy left sobbing behind.
Mars' Nat turned away with tears in his eyes and looked out of the window.

"Through thick and thin, he's the one soul who loved me and believed in me," he said, in a half whisper.

"His poor, black hands have upheld the old family standards and ideals far more faithfully than mine, both in his slavery and his freedom." Because of this there was no grave made for George in the forsaken shadow of Brier Crook church.