The boy was lying, fast asleep, on a rude bed upon the floor; so

pale with anxiety, and sadness, and the closeness of his prison,

that he looked like death; not death as it shows in shroud and

coffin, but in the guise it wears when life has just departed;

when a young and gentle spirit has, but an instant, fled to

Heaven, and the gross air of the world has not had time to

breathe upon the changing dust it hallowed.

'Not now,' said the Jew, turning softly away. 'To-morrow.