Israel. "I hope he won't forget all about me till to-morrow."

He waited and listened; and listened and waited.

Another restless night; no sleep; morning came. The second day passed
like the first, and the night. On the third morning the flowers lay
shrunken by his side. Drops of wet oozing through the air-slits, fell
dully on the stone floor. He heard the dreary beatings of the tree's
leaves against the mouths of the griffins, bedashing them with the spray
of the rain-storm without. At intervals a burst of thunder rolled over
his head, and lightning flashing down through the slits, lit up the cell
with a greenish glare, followed by sharp splashings and rattlings of the
redoubled rain-storm.

"This is the morning of the third day," murmured Israel to himself; "he
said he would at the furthest come to me on the morning of the third
day. This is it. Patience, he will be here yet. Morning lasts till
noon."

But, owing to the murkiness of the day, it was very hard to tell when
noon came. Israel refused to credit that noon had come and gone, till
dusk set plainly in. Dreading he knew not what, he found himself buried
in the darkness of still another night. However patient and hopeful
hitherto, fortitude now presently left him. Suddenly, as if some
contagious fever had seized him, he was afflicted with strange
enchantments of misery, undreamed of till now.

He had eaten all the beef, but there was bread and water sufficient to
last, by economy, for two or three days to come. It was not the pang of
hunger then, but a nightmare originating in his mysterious