ion.

For it had seemed to me that the draperies on her bosom had slightly
moved, a gentle, almost imperceptible heave as if she breathed. I
looked, and there it came again.

God! into what madness was I come that my eyes could so deceive me? It
was the draught that stirred the air about the church and blew great
shrouds of wax adown the taper's yellow sides. I manned myself to a more
sober mood, and looked again.

And now my doubts were all dispelled. I knew that I had mastered any
errant fancy, and that my eyes were grown wise and discriminating, and I
knew, too, that she lived. Her bosom slowly rose and fell; the colour
of her lips, the hue of her cheeks confirmed the assurance that she
breathed. The poison had failed in its work.

I paused a second yet to ponder. That morning her appearance had been
such that the physician had been deceived by it, and had pronounced her
cold. Yet now there were these signs of life. What could it portend
but that the effects of the poison were passing off and that she was
recovering?

In the wild madness of joy that sent the blood drumming and beating
through my brain, my first impulse was to run for help. Then I bethought
me of the closed doors, and I realised that no matter how I shouted none
would hear me. I must succour her myself as best I could, and meanwhile
she must be protected from the chill air of that December night in
that church that was colder than the tomb. I had my cloak, a heavy,
serviceable garment; and if more were needed, there was the pall which I
had removed, and which lay in a heap about the legs of my bench.

I leaned forward, and passing my hand under her head, I gently raised
it. Then slipping it downwards, I thrust my arm after it until I had her
round the waist in a firm grip. Thus I raised her from the coffin,
and the warmth of her body on my arm, the ready, supple bending of her
limbs, were so many added proofs that she was not dead.

Gently and reverently I lifted her in my arms, an intoxication of holy
joy pervading me, and the prayers falling faster from my lips than ever
they had done since as a lad I had recited them at my mother's knee. A
moment I laid her on the bench, whilst I divested myself of my cloak.
Then suddenly I paused, and stood listening, holding my breath.

Steps were advancing towards the door.

My first impulse was to rush forward and call to those who came,
shouting my news and imploring their help. Then a sudden, an alm