e blow had been too well aimed: it had gone to her heart, and the
life-blood bubbled rapidly forth between her white fingers, which she
pressed, to her side. One eloquent glance, in which eyes mingled with
eyes, while lips hung upon lips, was exchanged. There was not time,
neither was there need, to tell their stories in any other way. The
dying woman made one effort, pointed to a cradle that stood under a
cloud of gauze curtains in a corner, then smiled a long, impassioned
smile of recognition, of gratitude, and of love, seemed to wander a
little back in memory, murmured some pleasant sounds, and was still.

"The Silver-Voice rose solemnly, and casting her eyes about, beheld a
man crouching in a corner weeping. 'It is all over!' she said. 'All
over!' he replied, looking up. But I will not weary you with the scene
in which the wretched man--a Greek renegade--related how he had bought
Zoe--how he had loved her, and made her his wife--how they had traveled
in far countries--how he was jealous, ever, as he acknowledged, without
cause--and how, in a fit of madness, he had slain the mother of his
child. When he had finished, he led the bewildered Silver-Voice to the
cradle, and thrusting aside the curtains, disclosed the miniature
counterpart of Zoe, sleeping as if it had been lulled into deeper
slumber by its mother's death-cries. Then, stealing toward the corpse
with the step of one about to commit a new crime, he snatched a hasty
kiss, and rushed away. What became of him was never known. Silver-Voice
performed the last duties for poor Zoe, and took the child under her
care. Since that time she has almost always continued to live in the
house from the roof of which she heard her sister's cry; and though
apparently rational in every thing else, never fails to go up each
evening and sing the song she used to sing of old, though in a more
plaintive and despairing tone. If asked wherefore she acts in this wise,
her reply is, that she is seeking for her sister Zoe, and nobody
attempts to contradict the harmless delusion. Several years have now
passed away since this event, and the child has become a handsome boy.
You may see them both at the church to-morrow."

I thanked the worthy _papa_ for his story more warmly, perhaps, than he
expected. He had been as much pleased by narrating as I had been by
listening; but he was not very particular about the quality of his
facts, and unintentionally made me do penance for the excessive