More than one kind-hearted woman went up and kissed her, and when, at the close of the services, Mr.Tracy held her in his arms for a last look at her mother, their tears fell fast for the child, so unconscious of the meaning of what was passing around her.
'Isn't she beautiful! Such lovely hair, and eyes, and dazzling complexion!' was said by more than one; and then they speculated as to her future.
Would she go to the poor-house?
Would Frank Tracy keep her with all his children, or was it true, as they had heard, that Mr.Arthur Tracy was to adopt her at his own?
And where was Mr.Arthur?
He might, at least, have shown enough respect for the dead woman to come into the room, and they wanted so much to see him, for there was a great deal of curiosity with regard to the lunatic of Tracy Park among the lower class of people who had come to Shannondale during the eleven years of his absence.
But Arthur was sick in bed, suffering alternately from chills and a raging fever, which set his brain on fire and made him wilder than usual.

He had not slept well during the night.

Indeed, he said, he had not slept at all.

But this was a common assertion of his, and one to which Charles now paid little heed.
'A man can't snore and not sleep,' was the unanswerable argument with which he refuted the sleepless nights of his master.
On this occasion, however, he had heard no snoring, and Arthur's face, seen by the morning light, was a sufficient proof of the wakeful hours he had passed.

He, too, had heard the distant crying, and felt instinctively that it was not Maude's.