.

LONA'S NARRATIVE.
I lay down by a tree, and one and one or in little groups, the children left me and climbed to their nests.

They were always so tired at night and so rested in the morning, that they were equally glad to go to sleep and to get up again.

I, although tired also, lay awake: Lona had not bid me good night, and I was sure she would come.
I had been struck, the moment I saw her again, with her resemblance to the princess, and could not doubt her the daughter of whom Adam had told me; but in Lona the dazzling beauty of Lilith was softened by childlikeness, and deepened by the sense of motherhood.

"She is occupied probably," I said to myself, "with the child of the woman I met fleeing!" who, she had already told me, was not half mother enough.
She came at length, sat down beside me, and after a few moments of silent delight, expressed mainly by stroking my face and hands, began to tell me everything that had befallen since I went.