although I could not argue the matter any more with him, I was not yet
prepared to abandon this last cherished shred of old beliefs, although
perhaps not cherished for its intrinsic worth, but rather because it had
been given to me by a sweet woman whose memory was sacred to my
heart--my mother before Chastel.

Fortunately, it was not necessary to continue the discussion any longer,
for at this juncture one of the watchers from the sick-room came to
report that the mother was still sleeping peacefully, hearing which, the
father rose to seek a little needful rest in an adjoining room. Before
going, however, he proposed, with mistaken kindness, to relieve me of my
burden, and place the girl without waking her on a couch. But I would
not consent to have her disturbed; and finally, to my great delight,
they left her still in my arms, the father warmly pressing my hand, and
advising me to reflect well on his words concerning prayer.

It was growing dark now, and how welcome that obscurity seemed, while
with no one nigh to see or hear I kissed her soft tresses a hundred
times, and murmured a hundred endearing words in her sleeping ears.

Her waking, which gave me a pang at first, afforded me in the end a
still greater bliss.

"Oh, how dark it is--where am I?" she exclaimed, starting suddenly from
repose.

"With me, sweetest," I said. "Do you not remember going to sleep on my
breast?"

"Yes; but oh, why did you not wake me sooner? My mother--my mother--"