CHAPTER VIII.
PALE dawn stole in at the window of Rebekah's chamber and found her sleeping still a restless, feverish sleep that had overtaken her towards early morn. The beautiful white arms lay motionless outside the coverlet. The long lashes touched lovingly her pale sad cheeks, as though they would caress them.
Silently her maidens entered and, with noiseless footsteps, moved about the room. Then one sat by her side and watched her while day crept nearer and nearer, big with the tidings that would so distress her.
"'T will be a sorrowful awakening," said one to her companion.
"Methinks I have no strength to tell her the sad news," rejoined the other. But even their light whispering had stirred the girl, whose whole being was indeed awake and alive with uncertainty and with dread.
She started up from her couch into a sitting posture.
"What news have ye of Lazarus?" she cried, her voice framing the words her brain, as yet, had scarce conceived.
The maidens looked from one to the other and answered not; so, with a furious look and a voice of
65
