She made her sit down on a fragment of rock under a spreading tree, and then she went to the spring and found a large leaf, which she doubled up in the form of a cup, and caught some water, which she brought to the woman, who drank it eagerly.
“Ah, thin! bless the Lord for giving us water itself! Sure, there’s nothing like it, at all at all, whin the thirst is upon one!” said Judith, gratefully, drawing a long breath.
Britomarte brought some wild plums and cocoanuts which she saw growing, and gave them to Judith.
At first the woman was too frightened by the chattering of monkeys and the growls of hidden forest fiends to open her mouth; but Britomarte overcame her fears and she ate and drank with avidity.
Miss Conyers made a meal of the plums she had gathered.
But Judith, now that her appetite was satisfied, found another source of trouble.
“Sure, the sun is setting, and it will soon be dark! And Lord kape us, where will we slape?”
“It is a lovely summer evening, Judith. And there is a deep, dry grotto in the thicket that we have left. We will stay here through the twilight, and through the dark hours before moonrise, and then we will go to the grotto and sleep.”
And there they sat through the short twilight, and through the long, dark hours that intervened before the moon arose. The moon arose, a glorious, golden globe, illumining with its rich, soft light the broad expanse of sea, and the strange, wild land, with its stately palm trees.
Britomarte sat gazing with something like calm enjoyment upon the exceeding beauty of the scene. Sleeping, or forgotten in this quiet hour, seemed all her sorrows.