She knelt down by the side of the
couch, almost crushed by her own emotions. Over the grave of the young
warrior she had raised her heart to Heaven in agony and grief, and now
by her father's side she poured forth her whole soul to her Creator in
trembling ejaculations of thankfulness and hope.
Thus--the one slowly recovering whatever of life and vigour yet
continued in his weakened frame, the other still filled with her all-
absorbing emotions of gratitude--the father and daughter long remained.
And now, as morning waned towards noon, the storm began to subside.
Gradually and solemnly the vast thunder-clouds rolled asunder, and the
bright blue heaven beyond appeared through their fantastic rifts. The
lessening rain-drops fell light and silvery to the earth, and breeze and
sunshine were wafted at fitful intervals over the plague-tainted
atmosphere of Rome. As yet, subdued by the shadows of the floating
clouds, the dawning sunbeams glittered softly through the windows of
Numerian's chamber. They played, warm and reviving, over his worn
features, like messengers of resurrection and hope from their native
heaven.
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