“I immediately made an appeal to her sympathies,” replied his daughter. “I described to her the positive danger in which the youth was placed by her indifference—and endeavoured to awaken her feelings to a sense of the pleasures she would be storing for herself if she resolved upon rescuing him from the perils by which he was threatened. She replied that he was amiable and good, and had given her no cause for her apparent unkindness; but that she had not loved him in return for his affections, because he had excited in her no similar feeling; and, that hearing of his danger, her heart had been filled with tenderness, and that she had come to the hospital for the express purpose of endeavouring to tranquillise his mind with happier thoughts. This confession rejoiced me more than I can possibly express; and I bade her take my place at his bedside, while I remained at a distance to notice the effect her appearance would have upon him when he awoke. I had not waited long before I observed his head move on the pillow. His eyes looked clearer—his countenance calm and intelligent.
“‘Is it a dream?’ he said, as his gaze wandering round fell upon the blushing face of his Lusa. The look with which she answered the question seemed to have subdued him.
“‘Lusa!’ he murmured, as he gazed upon her with a kindling eye and quivering lip. ‘Lusa, my beloved! My soul is on my lips—let me bless you! My hope, my guide, my consolation! the very breath of my being—the aim and glory of my dreams! in all earnestness, in all sincerity, and in all love, I bless you; and may the blessing I confer remain upon you, gladden the atmosphere you breathe, and fill with beauty every scene upon which you gaze!’
“Lusa’s eyes were filled with tears; and bending her head down to his face, her lips rested upon his. She then moved away her head to conceal her tears; and, taking his hand in hers, she talked to him of hope and happiness; and assured him that she would endeavour to return the affection he had lavished on her so liberally. To this he made no reply. She looked upon his face and saw that his eyes were fixed and glassy. A scream brought me to her side; and, gazing in fear and pity, we discovered that he was dead.”
“How dreadful!” exclaimed Zabra.
“He died happy,” observed Sophos, “and his life had been blameless: there is nothing dreadful in such a dissolution. I should say that, under such circumstances, Death was robbed of all his terrors. The heart of the affectionate youth was too full; he died of excessive happiness; his breath passed away in a blessing, and his soul took flight in a caress. Is there any other way of passing from existence which, to a lover, could afford so much and so true an enjoyment?”
“I should think not,” here remarked Zoe’s betrothed. “It appeared as if all the happiness of his existence had been concentrated into one moment, and that its intensity destroyed him.”
“He was young,” said the matron; “and in youth, when the soul is attached to one object, though there be no return to the passion, and no hope except what the lover creates, he will love the more, the more despairing becomes his attachment. As the individual acquires experience, he loves more wisely; or, perhaps, I might say, he becomes more selfish: he thinks of himself much more than his passion; and an instance of devotion without a return is rarely, if ever, met with beyond the period of youth. Manhood is prouder—age more cautious; and as life passes on, the impulses which might have been wakened by a breath are not to be stirred even by a whirlwind.”
“Whence go you when you leave our shores?” inquired Sophos of the young merchant, as if desirous of changing the conversation.
“I pass from here to Constantinople; and from there, after touching at some of the principal ports in Europe, I intend visiting the classic shores of England;” replied Oriel.