“Not by night! Hear reason, O my lady!” he besought her. “Tell me where thou dwellest, that I may conduct thee thither!”

“I go to the cemetery, as I told thee. It is necessary. If thou art weary of my service, I will pay thee and go out alone.”

Barakah’s tone grew plaintive, almost tearful. The resolution in her words was mere bravado. She knew that she was utterly dependent on this friendly youth, whose company alone kept up her courage. From the moment of her turning back she had felt stupid, useless, relying on this boy to bring her to the cemetery, where she hoped to die. It seemed a certainty that if she prayed her utmost, full as her heart was, the vexed soul must leave the body, and the prayer by sheer brute force become acceptable. At thought of being baulked of her self-sacrifice, the boy’s help failing, she began to whimper.