ll have so many things to say and
to ask and to hear."

Consoling him thus, he tried to sleep where he was, and as slumber crept
upon him in the darkness, with five-and-twenty heavy miles of dense
night between him and his home, he crooned and talked to himself in
a childish way that he might comfort his aching heart. "Yes, I must
sleep--sleep--to-morrow _she_ must sleep and I must watch by her--watch
by her as I used to do--used to do--how soft and beautiful--how
beautiful--sleeping--sleep--Ah!"

When he awoke the sun had risen. The sea lay before him in the distance,
the blue Mediterranean stretching out to the blue sky. He was on the
borders of the country of the Beni-Hassan, and, after wading the river,
which he had heard in the night, he began again on his journey. It was
now Friday morning, and by sunset of that day he would be back at his
home near Semsa. Already he could see Tetuan far away, girt by its white
walls, and perched on the hillside. Yonder it lay in the sunlight, with
the snow-tipped heights above it, a white blaze surrounded by orange
orchards.

But how dizzy he was! How the world went round! How the earth trembled!
Was the glare of the sun too fierce that morning, or had his eyes grown
dim? Going blind? Well, even so, he would not repine, for Naomi could
see now. She would see for him also. How sweet to see through Naomi's
eyes! Naomi was young and joyous, and bright and blithe. All the world
was new to her, and strange and beautiful. It would be a second and far
sweeter youth.

Naomi--Naomi--always Naomi! He had thought of her hitherto as she had
appeared to him during the few days of their happy lives at Semsa.
But now he began to wonder if time had not changed her since then. Two
months and a half--it seemed so long! He had visions of Naomi grown from
a sweet girl to a lovely woman. A great soul beamed out of her big,
slow eyes. He himself approached her meekly, humbly, reverently.
Nevertheless, he was her father still--her old, tired, dim-eyed father;
and she led him here and there, and described things to him. He could
see and hear it all. First Naomi's voice: "A bow in the sky--red, blue,
crimson--oh!" Then his own deeper one, out of its lightsome darkness: "A
rainbow, child!" Ah! the dreams were beautiful!

He tried to recall the very tones of Naomi's voice--the voice of his
poor dead Ruth--and to remember the song that she used to sing--the song
she sang in the patio on that great nig