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And such was her habit of vigilance, that she ultimately became an illustration of the old Roman proverb, Non dormio omnibus; that is to say, she could sleep as sound as a top to every possible noise except a knock at the door, to which she might be said, during the greater part of her professional life, to have been instinctively awake.

"'Hujus Nympha loci, sacri custodia fontis Dormio dum blandae sentio murmur aquae; Parce meum, quisquis tanges cava marmora, somnum Rumpere; sive bibas, sive lavere, tace."* "Nymph of the grot, these sacred springs I keep, And to the murmur of these waters sleep: Ah, spare my slumbers; gently tread the cave, And drink in silence, or in silence lave."

Yes, she knew she understood." She bent her head a little lower, then added: "Beattie is worth more than I am." "You are worth a great deal, but but I want to see you rise to the heights of your nature. I want to see you accomplish the greatest task of all." "Yes?" "Conquer the last citadel of your egoism. Ego dormio et cor meum vigilat Send the insistent I to sleep.

All those bodies and minds and souls which had been in the church had evaporated into the night. Mrs. Chetwinde and Esme Darlington had wanted to speak to Rosamund, but she had slipped out of the church quickly. She did not wish to talk to any one. "Ego dormio et cor meum vigilat." What an odd little turn, or twist, the preacher had given to the meaning of those words!

"'Hujus Nympha loci, sacri custodia fontis Dormio dum blandae sentio murmur aquae; Parce meum, quisquis tanges cava marmora, somnum Rumpere; sive bibas, sive lavere, tace."* "Nymph of the grot, these sacred springs I keep, And to the murmur of these waters sleep: Ah, spare my slumbers; gently tread the cave, And drink in silence, or in silence lave."

"To-morrow too, I hope," Rosamund said, with a smile. "No, to-morrow we shall be the awkward number three. Mr. Robertson, from Liverpool, is coming to stay with me for a few days. He preaches here next Sunday evening." Rosamund's thought was carried back to a foggy night in London, when she had heard a sermon on egoism, and a quotation she had never forgotten: "Ego dormio et cor meum vigilat."

Limer, and looked absolutely unselfconscious, quietly dignified and simple. When he went into the pulpit the lights were lowered and a pleasant twilight prevailed. But the preacher's face was strongly illuminated. Mr. Robertson preached on the sin of egoism, and took as the motto of his sermon the words "Ego dormio et cor meum vigilat."

"Why," replied the Duke, "it will but teach her to stand in her own light. Kings do not love to court and sue; they should have their game run down for them." "Under your Grace's favour," said Christian, "this cannot be Non omnibus dormio Your Grace knows the classic allusion. If this maiden become a Prince's favourite, rank gilds the shame and the sin.

It would not, indeed, have been proper to keep up a war of the same kind; but an immediate, manly, and decided resentment ought to have been the consequence. We ought not to have waited for the disgraceful dismissal of our ambassador. There are cases in which we may pretend to sleep; but the wittol rule has some sense in it, Non omnibus dormio.

And if only one of the paths is wide enough, then choose that in preference to the other. I believe profoundly in 'sharing terms." He paused, gazing at the congregation with his soft and luminous eyes. Then he added: "Ego dormio et cor meum vigilat. When the insistent I sleeps, only then perhaps can the heart be truly awake, be really watchful.