‘you have verified your threat. Would to God, this were my heart's blood instead of hers!’ “I raised the lifeless girl—I pressed her to my bosom. In the agony of my soul I entreated her to speak—to say that she forgave me. But all was silent, save the ebbing pulsations of her heart. Osman had fled the moment he saw what he had done. How should I obtain assistance, or even get a little water to revive her, if life was not extinct? Necessity is fruitful of invention—I lifted the pale form, and hastened to a near rivulet—I bathed her temples—I staunched the blood with the cooling current, and bound the wound with my handkerchief. I heard a faint sigh—I thought it was her last. Imagine my joy, when she opened her eyes, awaking as from a long sleep. I whispered, ‘Speak not, it will exhaust you; I will carry you home—you will soon be better.’ She cast her eyes towards heaven, to signify that her home would soon be there. I was advancing with a quick step, when I heard the voices of the children in search of us. They stopt their merry gambols, and stood in amazement. I broke the silence by telling them that Ulea was very ill, that they must run home and tell their mother not to be alarmed, but endeavor as soon as possible to prepare a cordial and a bed, for I should reach the cottage in a few minutes. I hoped this would be some preparation for what was to follow. The mother met me at the door, with a look of anguish and of doubt. I motioned to her to be silent, while we administered some of the restorative: we then laid Ulea on the bed. I watched by her a few moments, and seeing she had fallen into a gentle sleep, I took the hand of the agonized mother, whose suppressed sobs shook her whole frame. I supported her to a retired spot, where the burst of her grief might be unheard by the languid sufferer. “I paused to gather firmness for the disclosure; I lifted up my heart to heaven for assistance. She seized my hand convulsively—‘Tell me all—but my heart anticipates it before you speak. Oh Steinkoff! it is the hand of man, yes, of a trusted villain, that has dealt the blow. My soul has labored under a mysterious weight this day—unseen but impending evil hung over me. Oh my God! prepare me to drink the bitter cup, and to trust in thee though thou slay me.’ “I related all—my suspicions of Osman—my conversation with him, the threat he had given, and then all the incidents of the sad catastrophe. ‘Oh my child!’ exclaimed the transported parent, ‘art thou then guiltless? has he not laid mine honor in the dust? If not, I can bear all.’ I concluded by encouraging her to hope the wound was not mortal, and that speedy medical aid might relieve it.