see thee, and I am blessed!"

"Hush!" answered Leila; "speak low, nor tarry long I fear that our
interviews are suspected; and this," she added in a trembling voice,
"may perhaps be the last time we shall meet."

"Holy Prophet!" exclaimed Muza, passionately, "what do I hear? Why this
mystery? why cannot I learn thine origin, thy rank, thy parents? Think
you, beautiful Leila, that Granada holds a rouse lofty enough to disdain
the alliance with Muza Ben Abil Gazan? and oh!" he added (sinking the
haughty tones of his voice into accents of the softest tenderness),
"if not too high to scorn me, what should war against our loves and our
bridals? For worn equally on my heart were the flower of thy sweet self,
whether the mountain top or the valley gave birth to the odour and the
bloom."

"Alas!" answered Leila, weeping, "the mystery thou complainest of is as
dark to myself as thee. How often have I told thee that I know nothing
of my birth or childish fortunes, save a dim memory of a more distant
and burning clime; where, amidst sands and wastes, springs the
everlasting cedar, and the camel grazes on stunted herbage withering
in the fiery air? Then, it seemed to me that I had a mother: fond eyes
looked on me, and soft songs hushed me into sleep."

"Thy mother's soul has passed into mine," said the Moor, tenderly.

Leila continued:--"Borne hither, I passed from childhood into youth
within these walls. Slaves ministered to my slightest wish; and those
who have seen both state and poverty, which I have not, tell me that
treasures and splendour, that might glad a monarch, are prodigalised
around me: but of ties and kindred know I little: my father, a stern and
silent man, visits me but rarely--sometimes months pass, and I see him
not; but I feel he loves me; and, till I knew thee, Muza, my brightest
hours were in listening to the footsteps and flying to the arms of that
solitary friend."

"Know you not his name?"

"Nor, I nor any one of the household; save perhaps Ximen, the chief of
the slaves, an old and withered man, whose very eye chills me into fear
and silence."

"Strange!" said the Moor, musingly; "yet why think you our love is
discovered, or can be thwarted?"

"Hush! Ximen sought me this day: 'Maiden,' said he, 'men's footsteps
have been tracked within the gardens; if your sire know this, you will
have looked your last on Granada. Learn,' he added, in a softer voice,
as he saw me tremble, 'that permission were e