Pottiswick’s daughter found her tongue. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. "All good people pray heartily unto God for this poor sinner, who is now going to take his death, for whom this great bell doth toll. . “What?” He replied. She caught her breath, and her eyes were lit with a sudden terror. She did not open the Bible but laid it on the edge of the bed, knelt and rested her forehead upon the worn leather cover.
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