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Gradually this became more subdued, or rather appeared to undergo a total change – slowly but surely altering to an expression of cheerfulness.

Slight at first, and imperceptible on account of the large scale upon which Quaco’s features were formed, the expression was every moment becoming more pronounced; until at length it attracted the notice of the others, notwithstanding the abstraction caused by their poignant grief.

Both observed it at the same instant, and to both it caused a feeling of annoyance – amounting almost to indignation.

“Lieutenant,” said Cubina, addressing his subaltern in a tone of reproach, “it is not exactly the time for being gay. May I ask you what is making you smile, while others around you are overwhelmed with sorrow?”

“Why, cappen!” rejoined Quaco, “I can’t see what yar all a-grievin’ ’bout. Can’t be the Custos: since, sartinly, you’ve got over grievin’ for him long afore this!”

The reply – grotesque in character, and almost jovial in the manner of its delivery – could not fail still further to astonish those to whom it was addressed. Both started on hearing it; and for some moments bent their eyes on the speaker in an expression of wonder, mingled with indignation.

Had Quaco gone mad?

“In the presence of death, sir,” said the young Maroon captain, directing a severe glance upon his lieutenant, “you might lay aside that merry mood, too common with you. It ill becomes you – ”

“Death, do ye say, cappen?” interrupted Quaco; “who’s gone dead here?”

There was no reply to this abrupt interrogatory. Those to whom it was addressed were too much taken by surprise to say a word.

“If you mean the young buckra lady,” continued Quaco, “I’d give all the barbecued hog I ever owned nebber to be more dead than she jess now. Dead, i’deed? nonsense dat: she only sleep!”

Herbert and Cubina started from their seats, each uttering a cry of astonishment, in which might be detected the accents of hope.

“Who’s got a piece o’ lookin’-glass!” continued Quaco, turning his glance interrogatively around the hut. “Good,” he exclaimed, as the sparkle of a piece of broken mirror came under his eyes; “here’s the thing itself!

“Now, lookee hyar!” resumed he, taking the bit of glass from the place where it had been deposited, and rubbing its surface with a piece of rag: “you see thar’s ne’er a speck upon it?”

The others, still held silent by surprise, made answer only by nodding their assent.

“Wal, now,” continued Quaco, “watch me a bit.”

Placing the smooth surface of the mirror to the mute lips, he held it there for a minute or more; and then, turning, he raised it up, and held it close to the light of the lamp.

“Ye see,” he cried, triumphantly pointing to a white filmy bloom that appeared upon the glass, partially obscuring its sheen, “that’s her breath! She no gone dead, else how she hab breath?”

His listeners were too excited to make reply. Only by exclamations did they signify their assent to the truth of his hypothesis.