her soul's
hope was cast on a chance that might prove a blank. The wife and lovely
child of Lord Raymond became objects of intense interest in Athens. The
gates of their abode were besieged, audible prayers were breathed for his
restoration; all these circumstances added to the dismay and fears of
Perdita.

My exertions were unremitted: after a time I left Athens, and joined the
army stationed at Kishan in Thrace. Bribery, threats, and intrigue, soon
discovered the secret that Raymond was alive, a prisoner, suffering the
most rigorous confinement and wanton cruelties. We put in movement every
impulse of policy and money to redeem him from their hands.

The impatience of my sister's disposition now returned on her, awakened by
repentance, sharpened by remorse. The very beauty of the Grecian climate,
during the season of spring, added torture to her sensations. The
unexampled loveliness of the flower-clad earth--the genial sunshine and
grateful shade--the melody of the birds--the majesty of the woods--
the splendour of the marble ruins--the clear effulgence of the stars by
night--the combination of all that was exciting and voluptuous in this
transcending land, by inspiring a quicker spirit of life and an added
sensitiveness to every articulation of her frame, only gave edge to the
poignancy of her grief. Each long hour was counted, and "He suffers" was
the burthen of all her thoughts. She abstained from food; she lay on the
bare earth, and, by such mimickry of his enforced torments, endeavoured to
hold communion with his distant pain. I remembered in one of her harshest
moments a quotation of mine had roused her to anger and disdain. "Perdita,"
I had said, "some day you will discover that you have done wrong in again
casting Raymond on the thorns of life. When disappointment has sullied his
beauty, when a soldier's hardships have bent his manly form, and loneliness
made even triumph bitter to him, then you will repent; and regret for the
irreparable change

"will move
In hearts all rocky now, the late remorse of love."[1]

The stinging "remorse of love" now pierced her heart. She accused herself
of his journey to Greece--his dangers--his imprisonment. She pictured
to herself the anguish of his solitude; she remembered with what eager
delight he had in former days made her the partner of his joyful hopes--
with what grateful affection he received her sympathy in his cares. She
called to mind how often he had decl