the hour of eleven
In a malarious cell , how happy was he to make his bed on the cold plank beside his master 's cot , where he might watch over his declining spirit . Kindness was his by nature , -- no cruel law could rob his heart of its treasure : he would follow master to the grave , and lavish it upon the soil that covered him . Having accompanied Franconia to the Rosebrook Villa , he will return to the prison and join Harry , alone watching over the dead . The city clock strikes the hour of eleven as he leaves the outer gate , and turns into the broad road leading to the city . The scene before him is vamped in still darkness ; a murky light now and then sheds its glimmers across the broad road ; and as he hurries onward , contemplating the sad spectacle presented in the prison , happy incidents of old plantation life mingle their associations with his thoughts . He muses to himself , and then , as if bewildered , commences humming his favourite tune - `` There 's a place for old mas ' r yet , when all ` um dead and gone ! '' His soul is free from suspicion : he fears not the savage guardsman 's coming ; the pure kindliness of his heart is his shield .