worn by the Jewish nation, and were similarly applied.  One of them she gently bound upon the forehead of her husband, and the other upon his left arm.  She threw perfumes into the brazier, and as the form of her husband was becoming indistinct from the smoke which filled the room, she muttered a few sentences, waved over him a small sprig of some shrub which she held in her white hand, and then closing the curtains, and removing the brazier she sat down by the side of the bed.

“If there be harm,” thought Amine, “at least the deed is not his—­’tis mine; they cannot say that he has practised arts that are unlawful and forbidden by his priests.  On my head be it!” And there was a contemptuous curl on Amine’s beautiful arched lip, which did not say much for her devotion to her new creed.

Morning dawned, and Philip still slumbered. “’Tis enough,” said Amine, who had been watching the rising of the sun, as she beheld his upper limb appear above the horizon.  Again she waved her arm over Philip, holding the sprig in her hand; and cried, “Philip, awake!”

Philip started up, opened his eyes, and shut them again to avoid the glare of the broad daylight, rested upon his elbow, and appeared to be collecting his thoughts.

“Where am I?” exclaimed he.  “In my own bed?  Yes!” He passed his hand across his forehead, and felt the scroll.  “What is this?” continued he, pulling it off, and examining it.  “And Amine, where is she?  Good Heavens, what a dream!  Another?” cried he, perceiving the scroll tied to his arm.  “I see it now.  Amine, this is your doing.”  And Philip threw himself down, and buried his face in the pillow.

Amine, in the meantime, had slipped into bed, and had taken her place by Philip’s side.  “Sleep, Philip, dear! sleep!” said she, putting her arms round him; “we will talk when we wake again.”

“Are you there, Amine?” replied Philip, confused.  “I thought I was alone; I have dreamed—­” And Philip again was fast asleep before he could complete his sentence.  Amine, too, tired with watching, slumbered and was happy.

Father Mathias had to wait a long while for his breakfast that morning; it was not till two hours later than usual that Philip and Amine made their appearance.

“Welcome, my children,” said he; “you are late.”

“We are, Father,” replied Amine; “for Philip slept, and I watched till break of day.”

“He hath not been ill, I trust,” replied the priest.

“No, not ill; but I could not sleep,” replied Amine.

“Then didst thou do well to pass the night—­as I doubt not thou hast done, my child—­in holy watchings.”

Philip shuddered; he knew that the watching, had its cause been known, would have been, in the priest’s opinion, anything but holy.  Amine quickly replied—­

“I have, indeed, communed with higher powers, as far as my poor intellect hath been able.”

“The blessing of our holy Church upon thee, my child!” said the old man, putting his hand upon her head; “and on thee too, Philip.”