How she dreaded getting rested; how she longed for that overpowering fatigue and exhaustion of mind and body to prolong itself!  And as the hours went on, she knew that she was getting rested, and that she would have to wake up to everything again by and by.  It should not be at anybody’s bidding.

“Miss ’Lizabeth! —­” sounded Clam’s voice in the midst of her slumbers.

“Go away, Clam!” said the sleeper, without opening her eyes.

“Miss ‘Lizabeth, ain’t ye goin’ to eat nothin’?”

“No —­ Go away.”

“Miss ’Lizabeth! —­ dinner’s ready.”

“Well! —­”

“You’re a goin’ to kill yourself.”

“Don’t you kill me!” said Elizabeth impatiently.  “Go off.”

“To be sure,” said Clam as she turned away, —­ “there ain’t much company.”

It was very vexing to be disturbed.  But just as she was getting quiet again, came the tread of Mrs. Nettley’s foot behind her, and Elizabeth knew another colloquy was at hand.

“Are you asleep, Miss Haye?” said the good lady a little timidly.

“No,” said Elizabeth lifting her head wearily, —­ “I wish I were.”

“There’s dinner got ready for you in the house.”

“Let anybody eat it that can. —­ I can’t.”

“Wouldn’t you be better for taking a little something?  I’m afraid you’ll give way if you do not.”

“I don’t care,” said Elizabeth.  “Let me give way —­ only let me alone!”

She curled her head down determinately again.

“I am afraid, Miss Haye, you will be ill,” said poor Mrs. Nettley.

“I am willing,” —­ said Elizabeth.  “I don’t care about anything, but to be quiet! —­”

Mrs. Nettley went off in despair; and Elizabeth in despair also, found that vexation had effectually driven away sleep.  In vain the locust sang and the moss smelled sweet; the tide of feeling had made head again, and back came a rush of disagreeable things, worse after worse; till Elizabeth’s brow quitted the moss pillow to be buried in her hands, and her half-quieted spirit shook anew with the fresh-raised tempest.  Exhaustion came back again; and thankfully she once more laid herself down to sleep and forgetfulness.

Her sleep was sound this time.  The body asserted its rights; and long, long she lay still upon her moss pillow, while the regular deep-drawn breath came and went, fetching slow supplies of strength and refreshment.  The sun quitted its overhead position and dipped towards Wut-a-qut-o, behind the high brow of which, in summer-time, it used to hide itself.  A slant ray found an opening in the thick tree-tops, and shone full upon Elizabeth’s face; but it failed to rouse her; and it soon went up higher and touched a little song sparrow that was twittering in a cedar tree close by.  Then the shadows of the trees fell long over the grass towards the rocks on the east.

Elizabeth was awakened at last by a familiar adjuration.