When Edith was alone, she felt that weakness and exhaustion of the body that all the painful excitements of the day had produced. She threw herself on the bed, and Dinah was soon at her side. "Sing me one of the hymns you used to sing in my happy childhood; perhaps I may sleep." Dinah sat by the side of the bed, and Edith laid her head on the breast of her faithful friend, while she began in a tremulous, low tone, that became stronger and clearer as the holy fervor of the hymn inspired her. Edith lay motionless, but between her closed eyelids the large tears forced themselves, and fell slowly down her cheeks. At length, like a tired infant, she slept. Dinah laid her head gently on the pillow; with the tenderest hand, wiped away the tears; drew the covering over her; with noiseless step excluded the light, and then sat down to watch by her. It was the bitterest hour poor Dinah had ever passed. She tried to pray, but she found submission impossible. She had had many trials. She had been torn from her native land, chained in a slave ship, exposed for sale in the slave market; but since she had been a Christian, she had blessed her various trials. Now her faith in God seemed entirely to fail. She took, as she had often done to comfort her, the cool, soft hand of her mistress in hers. It was now burning hot, and her own tears, as they fell, seemed to scald her. But just at that moment a thought darted into her mind, and she has often said that it was a direct inspiration from God. "I will save her!" was the thought. The blood rushed to her head and face, and then retreated again to the heart; she trembled, and, for the first time in her life, the poor African was near fainting. She fell on her knees: "Yes, God help me, I will save her." The operations of the mind at such moments are rapid as lightning; and, in a few moments, her plan was arranged. When Edith awoke and saw the change a few moments had wrought in Dinah's appearance, the light that shone in her eye, and her cheek "flushed through its olive hue," she feared, for an instant, that great anxiety and grief had shaken her reason. "My poor Dinah," she said, taking her hand in hers, "you are ill; you are feverish; you have been too long shut up in this dismal room with me. Go out, I pray you, and take the cool evening air, and I will try to sleep again." It was what Dinah wished, for she desired to consult Paul; but she busied herself with all those little nameless attentions that love alone can devise. As she was folding her mistress's hair for the night, Edith said, "Dinah, I can escape this dreadful death that awaits me." "O, my dear mistress, how?" said Dinah, her whole face quivering with emotion. "With a lie! by confessing that I have tormented that poor child, and that I am myself possessed by evil spirits."