Aph-Lin made me a covert sing of approbation, but said nothing.  “Be not so cruel!” exclaimed Zee, still in sonorous accents.  “Can love command itself where it is truly felt?  Do you suppose that a maiden Gy will conceal a sentiment that it elevates her to feel?  What a country you must have come from!”

Here Aph-Lin gently interposed, saying, “Among the Tish-a the rights of your sex do not appear to be established, and at all events my guest may converse with you more freely if unchecked by the presence of others.”

To this remark Zee made no reply, but, darting on me a tender reproachful glance, agitated her wings and fled homeward.

“I had counted, at least, on some aid from my host,” I said bitterly, “in the perils to which his own daughter exposes me.”

“I gave you the best aid I could.  To contradict a Gy in her love affairs is to confirm her purpose.  She allows no counsel to come between her and her affections.”

Chapter XXIV.

On alighting from the air-boat, a child accosted Aph-Lin in the hall with a request that he would be present at the funeral obsequies of a relation who had recently departed from that nether world.

Now, I had never seen a burial-place or cemetery amongst this people, and, glad to seize even so melancholy an occasion to defer an encounter with Zee, I asked Aph-Lin if I might be permitted to witness with him the interment of his relation; unless, indeed, it were regarded as one of those sacred ceremonies to which a stranger to their race might not be admitted.

“The departure of an An to a happier world,” answered my host, “when, as in the case of my kinsman, he has lived so long in this as to have lost pleasure in it, is rather a cheerful though quiet festival than a sacred ceremony, and you may accompany me if you will.”

Preceded by the child-messenger, we walked up the main street to a house at some little distance, and, entering the hall, were conducted to a room on the ground floor, where we found several persons assembled round a couch on which was laid the deceased.  It was an old man, who had, as I was told, lived beyond his 130th year.  To judge by the calm smile on his countenance, he had passed away without suffering.  One of the sons, who was now the head of the family, and who seemed in vigorous middle life, though he was considerably more than seventy, stepped forward with a cheerful face and told Aph-Lin “that the day before he died his father had seen in a dream his departed Gy, and was eager to be reunited to her, and restored to youth beneath the nearer smile of the All-Good.”