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 *est blessing is sleep"—offering Cherokee a chair, "we will wait awhile."

She nervously looked about her. Her beautiful eyes, so pure, so clear, so unshadowed by any knowledge of sin, knew nothing of the misery that had been in the enclosure of these walls.

Presently a frail, crooked woman came in, abruptly. Cold and bitter was her gaze:

"Why did you not come sooner?" she demanded of Frost, sternly.

"It was impossible; am I not in good time?"

"Yes, for you a very good time—she is dead," and a short, quick gasp came from the withered frame.

"Do you mean it?" he said, looking at the woman who seemed quite overcome, in spite of her hard, cruel face.

"Go and see for yourself," and she pointed to the room he had entered before.

Cherokee stood silent, and bowed, as became the house of mourning.

"No, if she is dead, we need not go in," Frost said, quickly.

But the old woman recoiled a step: "I understand you are ashamed of her."

"No, not that, but it is now too late to grant her request."