The faintest of shadows lay along the floor from the pillars on the north and west sides.

Looking in, he saw the arm-chair usually occupied by Simonides drawn to a spot from which a view of the city over towards the Market-place could be best had.
"The good man is returned.

I will speak with him, unless he be asleep." He walked in, and with a quiet step approached the chair.
Peering over the high back, he beheld Esther nestled in the seat asleep--a small figure snugged away under her father's lap-robe.
The hair dishevelled fell over her face.

Her breathing was low and irregular.

Once it was broken by a long sigh, ending in a sob.
Something--it might have been the sigh or the loneliness in which he found her--imparted to him the idea that the sleep was a rest from sorrow rather than fatigue.