He was fortunate enough to find a little match-case in his pocket filled with matches that he carried for lighting his cigars; so Marie extinguished the lamp until morning, and they turned on a very dim light that day, for they feared that they should soon be left in total darkness. To-day, also, the last of the wine was used, Marie insisting that they should share alike, for both began to feel the deathly weakness of hunger paralyzing their energies. The singing at intervals was still persevered in, although Van Zandt's voice began to fail strangely from the weakness of hunger and illness. Hope failed him, too, as this, the third day of their mutual imprisonment waned to a close, and he regretted bitterly that he had allowed Marie to force him to take a share of the precious sherry. Faint and fainter waxed the light, and the two victims of Mme. Lorraine's malignity began to realize that the horrors of Cimmerian darkness were about to be added to those of starvation and isolation. "Sing something," said Marie, from the depths of the arm-chair where she was resting. He fancied that her voice sounded strange and faint, and his heart sunk heavily. He wished again that the poor child had never ventured into this horrible trap from which there seemed to be no release but death. But he had already wished it a hundred times before--alas, to no avail! "Sing," she murmured again, sadly. "See, the light is almost gone, but it will not seem so dreary when you sing." He said to himself that he would be willing to sing until the last breath left his lips, could he but lighten one pang of the suffering girl whose devotion to him had brought down such a cruel fate upon her head. So, although his throat was sore, his head dizzy, and his heart like lead in his breast, he sung feebly, but bravely, a song that yesterday she had said she liked. It was sweet; but sad. He had no heart for gay ones now: "Out in the country, close to the road-side, One little daisy there chanced to grow; It was so happy there in the sunshine-- No one the daisy's joy could know; Watching the white clouds, hearing a song there, List'ning in wonder all day long. 'Oh,' said the daisy, 'had I a song-voice, Yonder forever I'd send my song.' "It was a lark that sung in the heaven, While all the world stood still to hear, Many a maiden looked from her knitting, And in her heart there crept a tear. Down came the lark and sung to the daisy, Sung to it only songs of love; Till in the twilight slumbered the daisy, Turning its sweet face to heaven above.