If she sat she rose quickly; if she stood she walked again more fast.

Sometimes she listened with head aside, sometimes moaned, sometimes wept outright, and sometimes she muttered to herself in noises such as none had heard from her lips before.
The bondwomen could find no-way to comfort her.

Indeed, the trouble of her heart took hold of them.

When she plucked Fatimah by the gown, and with her blind eyes, that were also wet, seemed to look sadly into the black woman's face, as if asking for her father, like a dog for its master that is dead, Fatimah shed tears as well, partly in pity of her fears, and partly in terror of the unknown troubles still to come which God Himself might have revealed to her.
"Alas! little dumb soul, what is to happen now ?" cried Fatimah.
"Alack! girl," said Habeebah, "the maid is sickening again." And this was all that the good souls could make of her restless agitation.

She slept that night from sheer exhaustion, a deep lethargic slumber, apparently broken once or twice by troubled dreams.