The invalid swallowed the liquid docilely, never taking her large hazel eyes from Sara's face.
"Who are you? Where am I?" she asked again.
"I am Sara Olmstead, a King's daughter, come to stay with you this afternoon; and you are in a good woman's room, who is now gone to her work."
The eyes closed again, and an expression of pain or regret passed over the face.
"Do you suffer?" asked Sara gently.
The head was shaken slightly.
"Not in body, but I'm almost sorry it wasn't true."
"What, Bertha?"
"My first thought, that it was all over, and you were the angel appointed to waken me in the other world."
The tone, weak almost to whispering, was infinitely sad, and Sarah thrilled with sympathy. That one so young should long for death seemed incredible to her hardy nature. But nothing more was said till, bethinking herself, Sara asked,—