had died before
you in agonies of terrour?"

"Had either happened," said Nekayah, "I could not have endured life till
now: I should have been tortured to madness by the remembrance of such
cruelty, or must have pined away in abhorrence of myself."

"This, at least," said Imlac, "is the present reward of virtuous
conduct, that no unlucky consequence can oblige us to repent it."

CHAP. XXXV.

THE PRINCESS LANGUISHES FOR WANT OF PEKUAH.

Nekayah, being thus reconciled to herself, found, that no evil is
insupportable, but that which is accompanied with consciousness of
wrong. She was, from that time, delivered from the violence of
tempestuous sorrow, and sunk into silent pensiveness and gloomy
tranquillity. She sat, from morning to evening, recollecting all that
had been done or said by her Pekuah; treasured up, with care, every
trifle on which Pekuah had set an accidental value, and which might
recall to mind any little incident or careless conversation. The
sentiments of her, whom she now expected to see no more, were treasured
in her memory as rules of life, and she deliberated to no other end,
than to conjecture, on any occasion, what would have been the opinion
and counsel of Pekuah.

The women, by whom she was attended, knew nothing of her real condition,
and, therefore, she could not talk to them, but with caution and
reserve. She began to remit her curiosity, having no great care to
collect notions which she had no convenience of uttering. Rasselas
endeavoured first to comfort, and afterwards to divert her; he hired
musicians, to whom she seemed to listen, but did not hear them, and
procured masters, to instruct her in various arts, whose lectures, when
they visited her again, were again to be repeated. She had lost her
taste of pleasure, and her ambition of excellence. And her mind, though
forced into short excursions, always recurred to the image of her
friend.

Imlac was, every morning, earnestly enjoined to renew his inquiries, and
was asked, every night, whether he had yet heard of Pekuah, till, not
being able to return the princess the answer that she desired, he was
less and less willing to come into her presence. She observed his
backwardness, and commanded him to attend her. "You are not," said she,
"to confound impatience with resentment, or to suppose, that I charge
you with negligence, because I repine at your unsuccessfulness. I do not
much wonder at your absence; I know that the unhappy are n