Its deepest horror. Adosinda’s voice
Dispersed the waking vision. Little deem’d
Rusilla at that moment that the child,
For whom her supplications day and night
Were offer’d, breathed the living air. Her heart
Was calm; her placid countenance, though grief
Deeper than time had left its traces there,
Retain’d its dignity serene; yet when
Siverian, pressing through the people, kiss’d
Her reverend hand, some quiet tears ran down.