rrent of his
anger into pity at the danger he read there.

The old Bey knew the spirit that Zillah had inherited both from
himself and from her mother, and that she was fixed in her purpose.
She frankly told him that she could never be happy unless Selim was
her husband. The father was most sadly annoyed. He referred to the
best physicians in the city to know if a malady such as his daughter
suffered under, could prove fatal, and they assured him that this
had frequently been the case. One, however, to whom he applied,
informed the Bey that he knew of a Jewish leech who was famed for
curing all maladies arising from depression, physical or mental, and
if he desired it, he would send the Jew to his house on the
subsequent day, when he would say if he could do her any good as it
regarded her illness.

Much as the Mussulman despised the race, still, in the hope of
benefiting his child by the man's medical skill, he desired the
Armenian physician to send the Jew, as he proposed, on the following
day, and paying the heavy fee that these leeches know so well how to
charge the rich old Turks, the Bey departed once more to his palace.

At the hour appointed, the Armenian physician despatched the Jewish
doctor to the Bey's gates, where he was admitted, and received with
as much respect as the Turk could bring his mind to show towards
unbelievers, and the business being properly premised, the father
told the Jew how his daughter was affected, and asked if he might
hope for her recovery.

"With great care and cunning skill, perhaps so," said the Jew, from
out his overgrown beard.

"If this can be accomplished through thy means, I make thee rich for
life," said the Bey.

"We can but try," said the Jew, "and hope for the best. Lead me to
thy daughter."

The Bey conducted the leech to his daughter's apartment, and bidding
her tell freely all her pains and ills, left the Jew to study her
case, while he retired once more to silent converse with himself.

"You are ill," said the Jew, addressing Zillah, while he seated
himself and rested his head upon his staff.

"Yes, I am indeed."

"And yet methinks no physical harm is visible in thy person. The
pain is in the heart?"

"You speak truly," said Zillah, with a sigh--"I am very unhappy."

"You love?"

"I do."

"And art loved again?"

"Truly, I believe so."

"Then, whencefore art thou unhappy; reciprocal love begets not
unhappiness?"

"True, good leech; but he whom