ared that solitude was to him the
greatest of all evils, and how death itself was to him more full of fear
and pain when he pictured to himself a lonely grave. "My best girl," he had
said, "relieves me from these phantasies. United to her, cherished in her
dear heart, never again shall I know the misery of finding myself alone.
Even if I die before you, my Perdita, treasure up my ashes till yours may
mingle with mine. It is a foolish sentiment for one who is not a
materialist, yet, methinks, even in that dark cell, I may feel that my
inanimate dust mingles with yours, and thus have a companion in decay." In
her resentful mood, these expressions had been remembered with acrimony and
disdain; they visited her in her softened hour, taking sleep from her eyes,
all hope of rest from her uneasy mind.

Two months passed thus, when at last we obtained a promise of Raymond's
release. Confinement and hardship had undermined his health; the Turks
feared an accomplishment of the threats of the English government, if he
died under their hands; they looked upon his recovery as impossible; they
delivered him up as a dying man, willingly making over to us the rites of
burial.

He came by sea from Constantinople to Athens. The wind, favourable to him,
blew so strongly in shore, that we were unable, as we had at first
intended, to meet him on his watery road. The watchtower of Athens was
besieged by inquirers, each sail eagerly looked out for; till on the first
of May the gallant frigate bore in sight, freighted with treasure more
invaluable than the wealth which, piloted from Mexico, the vexed Pacific
swallowed, or that was conveyed over its tranquil bosom to enrich the crown
of Spain. At early dawn the vessel was discovered bearing in shore; it was
conjectured that it would cast anchor about five miles from land. The news
spread through Athens, and the whole city poured out at the gate of the
Piraeus, down the roads, through the vineyards, the olive woods and
plantations of fig-trees, towards the harbour. The noisy joy of the
populace, the gaudy colours of their dress, the tumult of carriages and
horses, the march of soldiers intermixed, the waving of banners and sound
of martial music added to the high excitement of the scene; while round us
reposed in solemn majesty the relics of antient time. To our right the
Acropolis rose high, spectatress of a thousand changes, of ancient glory,
Turkish slavery, and the restoration of dear-bought