trees. Neither knew ñor heeded it. Fate had

wrought its worst on them.

The soldiers brought a long low waggon, taken from a homestead some way in the interior, oxen-drawn, and commonly used to bear the load of millet-sheaves at harvest, or the piles of purple fruit at vintage time. They half-dragged, half-lifted hím upon the straw within it, and motioned her to a place beside him. She stooped over him where he lay, half-senseless.

"O Heaven! how you suffer!"

The darkness of his eyes, humid and lustreless, gleamed on her a moment under his half-closed lids; he turned with restless fever on the straw.

"You think this pains!"