ith, you?--account for all
this--I don't understand it."

She rose with great difficulty, and, tottering over towards him, laid
her head upon his bosom, and looking up with a smile of melancholy
tenderness into his face, burst into tears.

"Father," said she, "it is not worth your while to be angry with Sarah
now. I heard words from your lips this night that would make me forgive
you a thousand crimes. I heard you say that you loved me--loved me
better than anything else in this world. I'm glad I know it, for that
will be all the consolation I will have on my bed of death--an' there it
is, father," she said, pointing to that which she always occupied; "help
me over to it now, for I feel that I will never rise from it more."

Her father spoke not, but assisted her to the bed from which the old
nurse, who had fallen asleep in it, now rose. He then went into the open
air for a few minutes, but soon returned, and going over to the bedside
where she lay, he looked upon her long and earnestly.

"Father," said she, "I only did my duty this night. I knew, indeed, I
would never recover it--but then she risked her life for me, an' why
shouldn't I do as much for her?"

The Prophet still looked upon her, but spoke not a word; his lips were
closely compressed, his hands tightly clasped, and his piercing eyes
almost immovable. Minute after minute thus passed, until nearly half
an hour had elapsed, and Sarah dreadfully exhausted by what she had
undergone, found her eyes beginning to close in an unsettled and
feverish slumber. At length he said, in a tone of voice which breathed
of tenderness itself--

"Sleep, dear Sarah--dear Sarah, sleep."

She apparently was asleep, but not so as to be altogether unconscious
of his words, for, in spite of illness and fatigue, a sweet and serene
smile stole gently over her pale face, rested on it for a little, and
again, gradually, and with a mournful placidity died away. Her father
sighed deeply, and turning to the bedside, said--

"It is useless to ask her anything this night, Biddy. Can you tell me
what became of her, or how she got out?"

"Oh, the sorra word," replied the old woman; "I'm sure such a start was
never taken out o' mortal as I got when I came here, and found her gone.
I searched all the neighborhood, but no use--divil a sowl seen her--so
afther trottin' here an' there, an' up and down, I came in not able to
mark the ground, and laid myself down on the bed, where I fell asle