w
him well; he has vowed, and is not to be changed. And yet, if the relic
were taken without his knowledge, he would not have to blame himself.
Who then would he blame? Could I deceive him? I, the wife of his
bosom, tell a lie? No! no! it must not be. Come what will, it is our
destiny, and I am resigned. I would that Schriften had not spoken!
Alas! we search into futurity, and then would fain retrace our steps,
and wish we had remained in ignorance."

"What makes you so pensive, Amine?" said Philip, who some time
afterwards walked up to where she was seated.

Amine replied not at first. "Shall I tell him all?" thought she. "It
is my only chance--I will." Amine repeated the conversation between her
and Schriften. Philip made no reply; he sat down by Amine and took her
hand. Amine dropped her head upon her husband's shoulder. "What think
you, Amine?" said Philip, after a time.

"I could not steal your relic, Philip; perhaps you'll give it to me."

"And my father, Amine, my poor father--his dreadful doom to be eternal!
He who appealed, was permitted to appeal to his son, that that dreadful
doom might be averted. Does not the conversation of this man prove to
you that my mission is not false? Does not his knowledge of it
strengthen all? Yet, why would he prevent it?" continued Philip,
musing.

"Why I cannot tell, Philip, but I would fain prevent it. I feel that he
has power to read the future, and has read aright."

"Be it so; he has spoken, but not plainly. He has promised me what I
have long been prepared for--what I vowed to Heaven to suffer. Already
have I suffered much, and am prepared to suffer more. I have long
looked upon this world as a pilgrimage, and (selected as I have been)
trust that my reward will be in the other. But, Amine, you are not
bound by oath to Heaven, you have made no compact. He advised you to go
home. He talked of a cruel death. Follow his advice and avoid it."

"I am not bound by oath, Philip; but hear me; as I hope for future
bliss, I now bind myself."

"Hold, Amine!"

"Nay, Philip, you cannot prevent me; for if you do now, I will repeat it
when you are absent. A cruel death were a charity to me, for I shall
not see you suffer. Then may I never expect future bliss, may eternal
misery be my portion, if I leave you as long as fate permits us to be
together. I am yours--your wife; my fortunes, my present, my future, my
all, are embarked with you, and destiny ma