she sat near the lounge, thin hot fingers twined about it,
drew it caressingly to the pillow, and held it tightly. Her first impulse
was to withdraw it, and an expression of annoyance crossed her features;
but, on second thought, she suffered her fingers to rest passively in his.
Now and then, as she turned a leaf, she met his luminous eyes fastened upon
her; but after a time the quick breathing attracted her attention, and,
looking down, she saw that he, too, was sleeping. She closed the book and
remained quiet, fearful of disturbing him; and as she studied the weary,
fevered face, noting the march of disease, the sorrowful drooping of the
mouth, so indicative of grievous disappointment, a new and holy tenderness
awoke in her heart. It was a feeling analogous to that of a mother for a
suffering child, who can be soothed only by her presence and caresses--an
affection not unfrequently kindled in haughty natures by the entire
dependence of a weaker one. Blended with this was a remorseful
consciousness of the coldness with which she had persistently rejected,
repulsed every manifestation of his devoted love; and, winding her fingers
through his long hair, she vowed an atonement for the past in increased
gentleness for the remainder of his waning life. As she bent over him,
wearing her compassion in her face, he opened his eyes and looked at her.

"How long have I slept?"

"Nearly an hour. How do you feel since your nap?"

He made no reply, and she put her hand on his forehead. The countenance
lighted, and he said slowly--

"Ah! yes, press your cool soft little palm on my brow. It seems to still
the throbbing of my temples."

"It is late, Mr. Clifton, and I must leave you. William looked in, a few
minutes since, to say that the fire burned in your room, but I would not
wake you. I will send him to you. Good night."

She leaned down voluntarily and kissed him, and, with a quick movement, he
folded her to his heart an instant, then released her, murmuring huskily--

"God bless you, Electra, and reward you for your patient endurance. Good
night, my precious child."

She went to her room, all unconscious of the burst of emotion which shook
the feeble frame of the painter, long after she had laid her head on her
pillow in the sound slumber of healthful youth.

CHAPTER XIV

THE CLOSE OF THE VIGIL

The year that ensued proved a valuable school of patience, and taught the
young artist a gentleness of tone and q