Those ferocious hands that had laid the slanderer prostrate on the floor, feebly beat her bosom and her gray head.

"Oh, Saints beloved of God! Oh, blessed Virgin, mother of Christ, spare my child, my sweet child!" She rose in wild despair--she seized Benjulia, and madly shook him.

"Who are you?
How dare you touch her?
Give her to me, or I'll be the death of you.

Oh, my Carmina, is it sleep that holds you?
Wake! wake! wake!" "Listen to me," said Benjulia, sternly.
She dropped on the sofa by Carmina's side, and lifted one of the cold clenched hands to her lips.

The tears fell slowly over her haggard face.
"I am very fond of her, sir," she said humbly.