elated to them the
situation in which he had found Evadne. At first, from delicacy to Adrian
he concealed her name; but it was divulged in the course of his narrative,
and her former lover heard with the most acute agitation the history of her
sufferings. Idris had shared Perdita's ill opinion of the Greek; but
Raymond's account softened and interested her. Evadne's constancy,
fortitude, even her ill-fated and ill-regulated love, were matter of
admiration and pity; especially when, from the detail of the events of the
nineteenth of October, it was apparent that she preferred suffering and
death to any in her eyes degrading application for the pity and assistance
of her lover. Her subsequent conduct did not diminish this interest. At
first, relieved from famine and the grave, watched over by Raymond with the
tenderest assiduity, with that feeling of repose peculiar to convalescence,
Evadne gave herself up to rapturous gratitude and love. But reflection
returned with health. She questioned him with regard to the motives which
had occasioned his critical absence. She framed her enquiries with Greek
subtlety; she formed her conclusions with the decision and firmness
peculiar to her disposition. She could not divine, that the breach which
she had occasioned between Raymond and Perdita was already irreparable: but
she knew, that under the present system it would be widened each day, and
that its result must be to destroy her lover's happiness, and to implant
the fangs of remorse in his heart. From the moment that she perceived the
right line of conduct, she resolved to adopt it, and to part from Raymond
for ever. Conflicting passions, long-cherished love, and self-inflicted
disappointment, made her regard death alone as sufficient refuge for her
woe. But the same feelings and opinions which had before restrained her,
acted with redoubled force; for she knew that the reflection that he had
occasioned her death, would pursue Raymond through life, poisoning every
enjoyment, clouding every prospect. Besides, though the violence of her
anguish made life hateful, it had not yet produced that monotonous,
lethargic sense of changeless misery which for the most part produces
suicide. Her energy of character induced her still to combat with the ills
of life; even those attendant on hopeless love presented themselves, rather
in the shape of an adversary to be overcome, than of a victor to whom she
must submit. Besides, she had memories of