About half-an-hour passed in silence, the most solemn silence; there was not so much as the sound of an insect's wing. Then again the dying lips spoke.
"They have lighted the lamp," she said. "I think the feast is ready."
The silver moon, little past the full, was rising in calm beauty over the desert.
"Do you not hear the music?" said Mrs. Evendale, whose pale face in the silvery light looked as if she were eagerly listening to what none but herself could hear.
"The angels must be singing," observed Robin.
"No, no, not the angels, that is not the angels' song, 'Unto Him that loved us, and washed us from our sins—'" the verse was unfinished, the spirit joyously fled in the utterance, leaving a smile of bliss on the lovely countenance of the dead.
Robin was left alone with the corpse, thanking God for giving His servant so blessed a departure, and for enabling him to minister to a saint to the last.
[CHAPTER XII.]
THE BIVOUAC.
WE will now return to the rest of the party, who, mounted on better camels than that which Robin had ridden, had passed on some distance in front.