"I am—I am!" cried the widow, snatching the babe, and pressing it to her breast with rapturous delight "God be thanked, I have found it!" "We have both good reason to be grateful," added the lady, with great emotion. Impressed with this idea, he paused for a moment to listen. "He has escaped!" exclaimed the knight; "we have searched every corner of the house without finding a trace of him. "But, perhaps, he has not got beyond the room above. He had never wanted daughters. ” Her eyes glinted, macabre. How long wilt thou forget me, O Lord? for ever? How long wilt thou hide thy face from me? She came upon the Song of Songs—which had been pasted down in the Enschede Bible—the burning litany of love; and from time to time she intoned some verse of tender lyric beauty.
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