dead only a few months. He took each of us by the hand, and said he
forgave us everything we might have done wrong if only we were sincerely
penitent, and gave us each a kiss on our forehead. Then he beckoned us
all to him, and said, as humbly as if he were one of us instead of the
great king, 'Perhaps I may have done one of you some injustice, or have
kept you out of some right; I am not conscious of such a thing, but if it
has occurred I am very sorry'--we all rushed upon him, and wanted to kiss
him, but he put us aside smiling, and said, 'Each of you has enjoyed an
equal share of one thing, that you may be sure--I mean your father's
love; and I see now that you return what I have given you.' Then he
spoke of our mother, and said that even the tenderest father could not
fill the place of a mother. He drew a lovely picture of the unselfish
devotion of the dead mother, and desired us to pray and to sacrifice with
him at her resting-place, and to resolve to be worthy of her; not only in
great things but in trifles too, for they make up the sum of life, as
hours make the days, and the years. We elder ones clasped each other's
hands, and I never felt happier than in that moment, and afterwards by my
mother's grave." Nefert raised her eyes that were wet with tears.

"With such a father it must be easy to be good," she said.

"Did your mother never speak good words that went to your heart on the
morning of this festival?" asked Bent-Anat.

Nefert colored, and answered: "We were always late in dressing, and then
had to hurry to be at the temple in time."

"Then let me be your mother to-day," cried the princess, "and yours too,
Rameri. Do you not remember how my father offered forgiveness to the
officers of the court, and to all the servants, and how he enjoined us to