He heard the words, mournful as the sound of a funeral bell, and he strove to speak, but could not shape his lips to language that did not seem to profane the sanctity of her sorrow. Silently he held out his arms to her. “O my brother!” She glided near, and laid her head upon his breast, and her voice was weak and low. “Let me rest here a little. Do not speak to me. I am very weary. Let me rest here a little while—let me dream of my childhood—of the old sweet days that are gone—a little while before I go.” He had put his arms silently and tenderly around her, and she leaned upon his breast with closed eyes, pale and still. No sound broke the hush. A sad peace filled the air, and the slow minutes ebbed away. “Where am I?” she raised her head slightly, then let it sink again upon his bosom. “I am here—still here. I was gliding away—away. It was very comforting and sweet. I am better now. I think I must have slept a little. I feel so refreshed and light. Thank you, my brother, for this rest and strength. Now I must go. Kiss me, Harrington.” She turned her pale mouth up to his as she whispered the words. Vaguely surprised at the strangeness of her request, and deeply touched by its dreamful and childlike innocence, he bent his head and kissed her. Her lips were not fevered, but cool and dewy, like the lips of a child. Wondering at this, he was about to unclasp his arms to release her, when her eyes closed and her head sank again upon his breast. Holding her so, with his gaze turned far away to the blue sky beyond the windows of the room, he heard her breathe gently, and looking at her face, he saw that a light dew had started out upon it, and that she was asleep. He knew at once that this strange sleep was magnetic, and that its blessed rain of healing would fall deep and long on the arid trouble of her brain. Grateful that so sweet an influence had been shed upon her through him, he held her for a few moments, and then gently lifting her in his arms, he laid her on a couch. The sumptuous pride and passion of her womanhood seemed to have fallen from her, and pale, with her long dark eyelash sleeping on her cheek, she lay in thrilling and exquisite marble beauty, slumbering with the restful innocence of childhood.