eemed, a power to withdraw it, on the beautiful figure of the young
girl before him. It was one of those long intense looks which show
that the person on whom it is fixed is still more the object of
meditation than of vision--where it is the soul that looks. Hakem
gazed like a devotee upon the sacred image of his saint.

Maria, quite unconscious of this gaze, pursued her meditations. Her
eye caught the hour-glass that stood on a small table beside her.
"Sand after sand," said she, musing to herself--"Sand after sand,
thought after thought. The same sand ever trickling there; the same
thought ever coursing through my mind. Oh, love! love! They say it
enlarges the heart; I think it contracts it to a single point."

"Hakem," she said, after a pause, and turning towards the slave, "you
are true to my father, will you be true also to me?"

"To her father!" he murmured to himself, "as if"----And then,
checking himself and speaking aloud, he answered--"The Christians are
not so true to your sweet namesake, the Holy Virgin, whom they adore,
as I will be to you."

"A simple promise will suffice," said Maria. "You have, Hakem--let me
say it without offence--a style of language--Eastern, I
suppose--hyperbolical--which either I must learn to pardon, or you
must labour to reform. It does not suit our northern clime."

"I am mute. Yet, lady, you have sometimes chid me for my long
silence."

"And is it for your _much_ speaking that I chide you now?" said the
maiden, with a smile. "You will stand half the day like a statue
there; and, when spoken to, answer with a gesture only--so that many
have thought you really dumb. Much speaking is certainly not thy
fault."

"I understand. The slave speaks as one who felt the indescribable
charm of thy presence. It is a presumption worthy of death. Shall I
inflict the punishment?"

"Is this amendment of thy fault, good Hakem, or repetition of it?"

"I await your commands. What service can Hakem render?"

But Maria relapsed again into silence. She seemed to hesitate in
making the communication she had designed. Meantime, the arrival of
her father was announced, and the slave left the apartment.

Never man felt more tender love for his daughter than did the proud,
high-minded minister for this his beautiful Maria. His demeanour
towards her, from childhood upwards, had been one of unalterable,
uninterrupted fondness. He knew no other mood, no other tone, in which
he could have addressed