to herself in a dreamy whisper--"My father, poor father!"

But Pathema was wiry and enduring, easily fit for the fragile burden,
and having by a word persuaded the sufferer she wrapped her in a long
white _chiton_, and carried her with great tenderness out into the
cooler welcome air, beside the refreshing spring.

"How delightful is rest!" said the dying girl, as she gazed up through
the olive branches into the clear blue sky.

"There is abundance of rest in store, my beloved, even the rest that
remaineth for the people of God."

Biona lay quietly, enjoying a measure of peace. Her pet white dove,
flying from an overhanging branch, came down beside her; it hopped upon
the pillow, and with gentle wing softly brushed her pallid cheek. She
turned her head toward it, and gazing fondly upon the affectionate
creature, forgot her weariness for a time--a little time. Then she
began to move her head restlessly, whispering often and with yearning
look the word father.

The watchful attendant changed the weary one's position, and gave her
rest again. This was done as often as it was needed, and the need had
no end. Pathema prayed earnestly for the sufferer's recovery or
release. Her voice was the heart's melody, soft and soothing, if to
soothe were possible.

The father, a big sympathetic man, had by this time reached the
bordering olive trees, on his way home from a brief search for aid.
His clothing was very simple and plain: a dark _exomis_ (a short
sleeveless frock), and shoes of leather, studded with nails. As was
common, he was bareheaded. He had a melancholy foreboding that
calamity was near at hand. His oxen stood idle in their stall from
early morning. Noticing with surprised relief that his child was
already out in the grove, with some merciful one reclining by her side,
he stole up a little nearer and halted unobserved.

"Oh! for rest, rest," his daughter faintly cried; and the strong man
shook with emotion. "Oh! that I might be at rest!" she cried again, as
if a last feeble effort, "but how hard it is, how hard! to leave my
little brothers and my poor lonely father."

Creeping closer, Pathema raised Biona's weary head and placed it
tenderly in her own bosom. Feeling that the spark of life was low (for
the little hands were getting cold), and that words were unavailing,
she closed her eyes and became absorbed in silent prayer.

A little interval and then, with pleading face, the simple words of th