"Peace, peace!" said Israel.

"But God is good," said Ruth, "and surely He will not afflict our child
much longer."

"Hush! Hush! You will awaken her," said Israel, not thinking what he
said. "Now lie still and sleep, dearest. You are tired also."

She lay quiet for a time, gazing, while the light remained, into the
face of the sleeping child, and listening, when the light failed, to her
gentle breathing. Then she babbled and crooned over her with a childish
joy. "Yes, yes, father is right, and mother must lie quiet--very quiet,
and so her little Naomi will sleep long--very long, and wake happy and
well in the morning. How bonny she will look! How fresh and rosy!"

She paused a moment. Her laboured breathing came quick and fast. "But
shall I be here to see her? shall I?"

She paused again, and then, as though to banish thought, she began to
sing in a low voice that was like a moan. Presently her singing ceased,
and she spoke again, but this time in broken whispers.

"How soft and glossy her hair is! I wonder if Fatimah will remember to
wash it every day. She should twist it around her fingers to keep it in
pretty curls. . . . Oh, why did God make my child so beautiful?. . . .
Dear me, her morning frock wanted stitching at the sleeves, it's a
chance if Habeebah has seen to it. Then there's her underclothing. . . .
Will she be deaf and blind and dumb always? I wonder if I shall see her
when I. . . . They say that angels are sent. . . . Yes, yes, that's it,