Despite his
fear he slept heavily and late: when he rose the sun was high and
the child awake.
He fed her, and, bidding her bide within, went out to gain tidings
of the poor mother. He called, but no one answered; and the door
of the hovel in which she had taken shelter stood wide. Then, as
he searched the fields, fearing the fever had driven her abroad, he
saw the flutter of garments in a ditch; and lo! there lay the
woman, dead, with her dead babe on her breast. She had lain down
to die alone with God in the silence, that haply the living might
escape; and on her face was peace.
Later, Hilarius laid green boughs tenderly over mother and babe,
and covered them with earth, saying many prayers. Then he went
back to his fatherless, motherless maid.
She ailed naught that he could see, and there was food and to
spare; but each day saw her paler and thinner, until at last she
could not even sit, but lay white and silent in Hilarius' tender
arms; and he fought with death for his little maid.
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