Through ages that can ne'er be told
I'll make Thy praises ring.
All hail, eternal Son of God,
Who died on Calvary!
Who bought me with His precious blood,
From endless misery."
Mr. Randolph stood by Mrs. Benoit's chair. "My good woman," he
said, in suppressed tones, "this is a strange way to put a
patient to sleep."
"As your honour sees!" replied the black woman, placidly.
Mr. Randolph looked. Daisy's eyes were closed; the knitted
brow had smoothed itself out in slumber; the deep breath told
how profound was the need that weakness and weariness had
made. He stood still. The black woman's hand softly drew the
curtain between Daisy's face and the moonlight, and then she
noiselessly withdrew herself almost out of sight, to a low
seat in a corner. So Mr. Randolph betook himself to his
station in the doorway; and whether he slept or no, the hours
of the night stole on quietly. The breeze died down; the moon
and the stars shone steadily over the lower world; and Daisy
slept, and her two watchers were still. By and by, another
light began to break in the eastern horizon, and the stars
grew pale. The morning had come.
The birds were twittering in the branches before Daisy awoke.
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