frowns were useless to teach
her. No discipline could be addressed to her mind or heart. Except mere
bodily restraint, no control could be imposed upon her. She was swayed
by her impulses alone.

Israel did not despair. If he was broken down today he strengthened his
hands for tomorrow. At length he had got so far, after a world of toil
and thought, that Naomi knew when he patted her head that it was for
approval, and when he touched her hand it was for assent. Then he
stopped very suddenly. His hope had not drooped, and neither had his
energy failed, but the conviction had fastened upon him that such effort
in his case must be an offence against Heaven. Naomi was not merely an
infirm creature from the left hand of Nature; she was an afflicted being
from the right hand of God. She was a living monument of sin that was
not her own. It was useless to go farther. The child must be left where
God had placed her.

But meanwhile, if Naomi lacked the senses of the rest of the human
kind, she seemed to communicate with Nature by other organs than they
possessed. It was as if the spiritual world itself must have taught her,
and from that source alone could she have imbibed her power. To tell of
all she could do to guide her steps, and to minister to her pleasures,
and to cherish her affections, would be to go beyond the limit of
belief. Truly it seemed as if Naomi, being blind with her bodily eyes,
could yet look upon a light that no one else could see, and, being deaf
with her bodily ears, could yet listen to voices that no one else could
hear.

Thus, if she came skipping through the corridor of the patio, she knew
when any one approached her, for she would hold out her hands and stop.
Nay; but she knew also who it would be as well as if her eyes or ears
had taught her; for always, if it was her father, she reached out her
hands to take his left hand in both of hers, and then she pressed it
against her cheek; and always, if it was little Ali, she curved her arms
to encircle his neck; and always, if it was Fatimah, she leapt up to
her bosom; and always, if it was Habeebah, she passed her by. Did she go
with Ali into the streets, she knew the Mellah gate from the gate of
the town, and the narrow lanes from the open Sok. Did she pass the lofty
mosque in the market-place, she knew it from the low shops that nestled
under and behind and around. Did a troop of mules and camels come near
her, she knew them from a crowd of people;