When winter was drawing near, when the bursting cotton-pods had been gathered, and the vintage season was over, when the leaves were beginning to fall fast, and the cold grew sharp after sunset, circumstances occurred which compelled a change in Zarah's quiet routine of existence. She could no longer be left to indulge her lonely sorrow; the current of life was about to take a sudden turn which must of necessity bring her amongst new scenes, and expose her to fresh trials.
CHAPTER XXX.
CHANGES.
One evening, towards the hour of sunset, Zarah sat alone at her wheel awaiting the return of Anna from the city, she was startled by the sound of a hand rapping hastily upon the panel of the door. The hand was assuredly not that of Anna, who, from precaution, had adopted a peculiar way of tapping to announce her return. As no visitor ever came to Zarah's dwelling, it was no marvel that she felt alarm at the unexpected sound, especially as she was aware that she had neglected her usual precaution of barring the door during the absence of Anna. As Zarah hastily rose to repair her omission, the door was opened from without, and Lycidas stood before her. The countenance of the Greek expressed anxiety and alarm.
"Lady, forgive the intrusion," said Lycidas, bending in lowly salutation before the startled girl; "but regard for your safety compels me to seek this interview. I was to-day in company with Lysimachus, the Syrian courtier—how we chanced to be together, or wherefore he mentioned to me what I am about to disclose, matters little, and I would be brief. Lysimachus told me that, from information which he had received—how, I know not—he had cause to suspect that the maiden who some half-year back had been sentenced by the king to death if she refused to apostatize from her faith, was living secluded in a dwelling amongst the hills to the east of the city. The Syrian declared that he was resolved to-morrow morn to explore thoroughly every spot which could possibly afford a place of concealment to the maiden—whom he intends to seize and send as a prisoner into Persia, to the merciless tyrant whom he serves."
Zarah turned very pale at the tidings, and leaned on her wheel for support.
"You must fly to-night, dearest lady," said Lycidas; "this dwelling is no longer a safe asylum for you."
"Whither can I fly, and how?" murmured the orphan girl. "I have no friend here except"—Zarah hesitated, and Lycidas completed the sentence.
"Except one to whom your lightest wish is a command; to whom every hair of your head is dearer than life!" exclaimed the Athenian.
"Speak not thus to me, Lycidas," said Zarah, in a tone of entreaty; "you know too well the impassable barrier which divides us."