pag268iloTHE DEATH OF THE LITTLE MASTER
pag268ilo
THE DEATH OF THE LITTLE MASTER
Big Sal had waited till the last, and she was the only one that said a word.
"He look des like he did when he drapt asleep in deze arms," she cried, sobbing as though her heart would break, "an' I thank my God fer dat much! But oh, man, what a pity! What a pity!"
And she went out of the house into the yard, and through the yard into the lot, and through the lot to the negro cabins, crying, "Oh, what a pity! what a pity!"
Not for the Little Master, for he was smiling at the glorious vision of peace and rest that he saw when he said good-night. Not pity for the lad, but for those he had left behind him, for all who loved him; for all who had depended on his thoughtfulness; for all the weary and sorrowful ones.Oh, what a pity!Over and over again,what a pity!And the wind flowing softly about the world took up the poor negro's wailing cry and sent it over the hill and beyond, and the outlying messengers of the Swamp took it up—What a pity!And the Willis-Whistlers piped low, and the mysteries, swaying and slipping through the canes and tall grass, heard the whispered echo and sighed,Oh, what a pity!