In the meantime Grace, who had been lying half insensible, raised her
head slowly and said, in a low voice, "Water, water!"
"Oh, my girl," said Hope, in despair, "I'll go and get enough to moisten
your lips; but the last scrap of food has gone, the last drop of oil is
burning away, and in an hour we shall be in darkness and despair."
"No, no, father," said Grace, "not while there is water there,
beautiful water."
"But you can not drink _that_ unfiltered; it is foul, it is poisonous."
"Not that, papa," said Grace, "far beyond that--look! See that clear
river sparkling in the sunlight; how bright and beautiful it shines! Look
at the waving trees upon the other side, the green meadows and the bright
blue sky, and there--there--there--are the great white swans. No, no. I
forgot, they are not swans, they are ships sailing to the bright land you
told me of, where there is no suffering and no sorrow."
Then Hope, to his horror, began to see that this must be the very
hallucination of which he had read, a sweet illusion of green fields and
crystal water, which often precedes actual death by thirst and
starvation.
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