All efforts to save Nitetis' life were fruitless. Cambyses fell into the deepest gloom, and wanted action, war, to dispel his sad thoughts. Phanes gave him the pretext. As commander of the Greek mercenaries in Egypt, he had enjoyed Amasis' confidence. He alone, with the high-priest, shared Amasis' secret about the birth of Nitetus, who was not the daughter of Amasis, but of Hophra, his predecessor, whose throne Amasis had usurped. When, owing to the intrigues of Psamtik, Amasis' son, Phanes fell into disgrace and had to fly for his life, his little son was seized and cruelly murdered by his persecutors. Phanes had sworn revenge. He now persuaded Cambyses to wage war upon Egypt, and to claim Amasis' throne as the husband of Hophra's daughter.
The rest is known to all students of history--how Cambyses, with the help of Phanes, defeated Psamtik's host at Pelusium and took possession of the whole Egyptian Empire; how, given more and more to drink and fearful excesses, he set up a rule of untold terror, had his brother Bartja murdered in another fit of jealousy, and finally suffered defeat at the hands of the Ethiopians. They will also know how, on his death, Gaumata, the "pseudo-Smerdis" of the Greeks, was urged by his ambitious brother, Oropastes, to seize the throne by impersonating the dead Bartja; how, finally, the pretender was defeated and had to pay for his attempt with his life; and how Persia rose again to unity and greatness under the rule of the noble Darius, Bartja's faithful kinsman and friend.
[MARIA EDGEWORTH]
[Belinda]
Maria Edgeworth was born at Black Bourton, Oxfordshire, England, Jan. 1, 1767, and eleven years later her father removed to Ireland and settled on his own estate at Edgeworthstown. "Belinda," published in 1801, is Maria Edgeworth's one early example of a novel not placed in Irish surroundings, but dealing with fashionable life. Issued just a year after the appearance of her first Irish tale, "Castle Rackrent," it betrays entirely the influence of the novelist's autocratic and eccentric father, Richard Lovell Edgeworth, with whom the daughter had been previously collaborating. No one could be less suited than he to advise about fiction, yet to his daughter his advice was almost the equivalent of a command. The story is interesting as an example of literary workmanship outside of the scenes in which special success had been achieved. Miss Edgeworth died at Edgeworthstown on May 22, 1849.
I.--A Match-Maker's Handicap
Mrs. Stanhope, a well-bred woman, accomplished in the art of rising in the world, had, with but a small fortune, contrived to live in the highest company. She prided herself upon having established half a dozen nieces most happily--that is to say, upon having married them to men of fortunes far superior to their own. One niece still remained unmarried, Belinda Portman, of whom she determined to get rid with all convenient expedition; but finding that, owing to declining health, she could not go out with her as much as she wished, she succeeded in fastening her upon the fashionable Lady Delacour for a winter in London.
"Nothing, to my mind, can be more miserable than the situation of a poor girl who fails in her matrimonial expectations (as many do merely from not beginning to speculate in time)," she wrote from Bath. "She finds herself at five or six-and-thirty a burden to her friends, destitute of the means of rendering herself independent--for the girls I speak of never think of learning to play cards--de trop in society, yet obliged to hang upon all her acquaintances, who wish her in heaven, because she is unqualified to make the expected return for civilities, having no home--I mean no establishment, no house, etc.--fit for the reception of company of certain rank. My dearest Belinda, may this never be your case. I have sent your bracelet to you by Mr. Clarence Hervey, an acquaintance of Lady Delacour, an uncommonly pleasant young man, highly connected, a wit and a gallant, and having a fine independent fortune; so, my dear Belinda, I make it a point--look well when he is introduced to you, and remember that nobody can look well without taking some pains to please."
Belinda had been charmed by Lady Delacour, who was the most agreeable, the most fascinating person she had ever beheld; and to be a visitor at her house was a delightful privilege. But, a short time after her arrival, she began to see through the thin veil with which politeness covers domestic misery. Abroad, Lady Delacour appeared all spirit, life, and good humour; at home, listless, fretful, and melancholy, a prey to thoughts, seemingly, of the most painful nature.