Then folding her hands over her heart, and lifting her eyes towards heaven with a look of sweet solemnity, and, in a voice so deep, bell-like, and beautiful that it scarcely seemed a human one, she said:
"Out of the Depths have I called to Thee, and Thou hast heard my voice."
And with these sublime words upon her lips she once more dropped away into sleep, stupor, or exhaustion—for it is difficult to define the conditions produced in the dying by the rising and falling of the waves of life when the tide is ebbing away. The beautiful eyes did not close, but rolled themselves up under their lids; the sweet lips fell apart, and the pearly teeth grew dry.
Old Mrs. Jones, who had been busy with a saucepan over the fire, now approached the bedside, saying:
"Is she 'sleep?"
"I do not know. Look at her, and see if she is," replied the weeping sister.
"Well, I can't tell," said the nurse, after a close examination.
And neither could Hippocrates, if he had been there.
"Do you think she can possibly live?" sobbed Hannah.
"Well—I hope so, honey. Law, I've seen 'em as low as that come round again. Now lay the baby down, Hannah Worth, and come away to the window; I want to talk to you without the risk of disturbing her."