ebb.  Besides, Perdita was with him in his retirement; she saw the moodiness that succeeded to this forced hilarity; she marked his disturbed sleep, his painful irritability—­once she had seen his tears—­hers had scarce ceased to flow, since she had beheld the big drops which disappointed pride had caused to gather in his eye, but which pride was unable to dispel.  What wonder then, that her feelings were wrought to this pitch!  I thus accounted to myself for her agitation; but this was not all, and the sequel revealed another excuse.

One moment we seized before our departure, to take leave of our beloved girls.  I had small hope of success, and entreated Idris to watch over my sister.  As I approached the latter, she seized my hand, and drew me into another apartment; she threw herself into my arms, and wept and sobbed bitterly and long.  I tried to soothe her; I bade her hope; I asked what tremendous consequences would ensue even on our failure.  “My brother,” she cried, “protector of my childhood, dear, most dear Lionel, my fate hangs by a thread.  I have you all about me now—­you, the companion of my infancy; Adrian, as dear to me as if bound by the ties of blood; Idris, the sister of my heart, and her lovely offspring.  This, O this may be the last time that you will surround me thus!”

Abruptly she stopped, and then cried:  “What have I said?—­foolish false girl that I am!” She looked wildly on me, and then suddenly calming herself, apologized for what she called her unmeaning words, saying that she must indeed be insane, for, while Raymond lived, she must be happy; and then, though she still wept, she suffered me tranquilly to depart.  Raymond only took her hand when he went, and looked on her expressively; she answered by a look of intelligence and assent.

Poor girl! what she then suffered!  I could never entirely forgive Raymond for the trials he imposed on her, occasioned as they were by a selfish feeling on his part.  He had schemed, if he failed in his present attempt, without taking leave of any of us, to embark for Greece, and never again to revisit England.  Perdita acceded to his wishes; for his contentment was the chief object of her life, the crown of her enjoyment; but to leave us all, her companions, the beloved partners of her happiest years, and in the interim to conceal this frightful determination, was a task that almost conquered her strength of mind.  She had been employed in arranging for their departure; she had promised Raymond during this decisive evening, to take advantage of our absence, to go one stage of the journey, and he, after his defeat was ascertained, would slip away from us, and join her.