, my son, drink this off, and you will be well," said Mynheer
Poots, whose hand trembled so that he spilt the wine on the coverlid.
Amine, who watched her father, was more than ever pleased that she had
not put the powder into the cup. Philip rose on his elbow, drank off
the wine, and Mynheer Poots then wished him good night.

"Do not leave him, Amine, I will see all right," said Mynheer Poots, as
he left the room. And Amine, who had intended to go down for the candle
left in the parlour, remained with her husband, to whom she confided her
feelings and also the fact that she had not given him the powder.

"I trust that you are mistaken, Amine," replied Philip; "indeed I feel
sure that you must be. No man could be so bad as you suppose your
father."

"You have not lived with him as I have--you have not seen what I have
seen," replied Amine. "You know not what gold will tempt people to do
in this world--but, however, I may be wrong. At all events, you must go
to sleep, and I shall watch you, dearest. Pray do not speak--I feel I
cannot sleep just now--I wish to read a little--I will lie down
by-and-by."

Philip made no further objections, and was soon in a sound sleep, and
Amine watched him in silence till midnight long had passed.

"He breathes heavily," thought Amine; "but had I given him that powder,
who knows if he had ever awoke again? My father is so deeply skilled in
the Eastern knowledge, that I fear him. Too often has he, I well know,
for a purse well filled with gold, prepared the sleep of death. Another
would shudder at the thought; but he, who has dealt out death at the
will of his employers, would scruple little to do so even to the husband
of his own daughter; and I have watched him in his moods and know his
thoughts and wishes. What a foreboding of mishap has come over me this
evening!--what a fear of evil! Philip is ill, 'tis true, but not so
very ill. No! no! Besides his time is not yet come; he has his
dreadful task to finish. I would it were morning. How soundly he
sleeps!--and the dew is on his brow. I must cover him up warm, and
watch that he remains so. Some one knocks at the entrance-door. Now
will they wake him. 'Tis a summons for my father."

Amine left the room, and hastened down stairs. It was as she supposed,
a summons for Mynheer Poots to a woman taken in labour. "He shall
follow you directly," said Amine; "I will now call him up." Amine went
up stairs to the room wh