excessive grief, and had left him alone in such great sorrow, a pauper, and a slave.
With much smothering, Zara hid her feelings during this recital, and when it was ended her grief and tears struggled in vain with her tongue; and she spoke, desiring her servant to carry gold to buy his freedom, and skins, and raiment; and promised comfort, and to bid him be of good heart. For all this she was much easier; and one week, and then another went over, but her fancy thickened with his image. His face, with that heart-breaking look, was everywhere; her flowers were not her pride; solitude was her only comfort, wherein she got pale; her spirits grew aërial and refined; and the pomp and noise of her father's palace was a grossness no longer tolerable. Another week passed; when one morning, having had a light sleep and gentle dream, she arose, and with a soothed and quiet mind passed unattended from the garden to the road. The sun not being up, and the air of the morning cool, she strayed on (well knowing where, though she did not confess it to herself) until she reached the thatched habitation of this sad youth. When she came to think of what she was about, she trembled, but still went on. She paused at the threshold, and knocked, but no answer came. Upon looking round, she
