himself betrayed more foully than the sleeping Sisera slain under the sanctity of the roof-tree. She knew it might well be that never again would they look upon each other's face; that they might drag their lives on asunder, chained apart at the labour of felons, with eternal silence betwixt them, and knowing not even when each other's lives should cease.
It is a horrible knowledge—that one living, yet will be for ever as the dead.
Fear had never touched her; yet now a supernatural terror seemed to glide into her veins. The black shades of the stealing lizards, and the cold touch of the bat's wing as it passed, grew unbearable; the darkness seemed drawing in on her closer and closer; the eyes of the night-birds glowed like flame through the gloom; she uttered a bitter cry, and threw herself against the bars, and shook them with all the forcé of despair. "Let me see him once, that he may know!" she cried out to the peace of the night. "Oh God! that he may know!"
The cry, though not the words, was heard.
The door was unbolted, and opened. The light of a lamp fell on the floor. The Calabrian entered.
"So! what is it, Miladi?"
He came, careless and ready for a braggart's
