her bosom, tossing it into a tempest. If a ray of hope shone upon her, it was transient as the lightning's flash, and seemed to render more apparent the gloom with which she was surrounded. Often did she weep, and walk her chamber distractedly; often did she ponder upon the means to bring back the truant. A butterfly, a bird, a jewel, were all she had ever contended for before, but now a heart was the prize, and she would not tamely surrender it. Talismans are sought, charms woven, and all species of enchantment are put in requisition, that have power to recall a wandering lover. 'Tis in vain. The more potent spell of beauty and of love is chaining Giafar fast by the side of the Princess Abassa. Such is life! Joys and sorrows follow each other in constant and ever-varying succession. The sun of happiness, though it always shines, cannot at once enlighten this ever-revolving orb, but while it here tinges it with the bright hues of day, there the night of sorrow darkens upon its surface. Peace, visiting the unfortunate, leaves the happy, and all are in their turn miserable. So flowers drop one by one in the garden. "While the budding rose puts freshly forth its beauties, its companions, whose leaves were but now fully expanded, have in a moment withered; we see them already scattered in the dust." Life and beauty, ever departing, hover ever upon the flowers, and though they often change their resting place, still dwell always within the bower. CHAPTER III. "We were too happy to be so long; THE close of summer is at hand. Giafar and Abassa stand by the river's edge, upon the marble steps which descend into its bosom. They are watching the calif's barge, which has just departed. Its way is slow, for the rapid waters of the river oppose its course; yet the nervous arms of half a score of slaves overcome the fury of the stream, and gradually propel the boat against the current. They shun the full tide of the river, and steal close along the shore, their oars at times crashing amid the reeds that grow along its margin. Now they proceed with ease and celerity, as they strike into some eddy that is favourable to their progress, and now labour on with imperceptible motion, as they head round some jutting point by which the river rushes with straightened and impetuous current. "He is gone!" broke from the lips of both simultaneously. "That point has hid him from our sight," added the prince. The distance between them soon diminishes, and Giafar is now close at the princess's side. They look again to see if the calif is indeed beyond their view, and satisfied of this, the cold and indifferent demeanour which they have worn during Haroun's presence is laid aside. Blithely together they ascend from the water's edge, and Giafar's arm supports the person of the princess. Upon the topmost step they again turn, and look with care along the course of the stream. No object meets their eyes. They now dismiss their fears, and walk slowly among the spreading trees. They stop where the roses cluster thickly, and reposing under the shade of curtained flowers, discourse sweetly together. "How kind is my father now," said the princess. "All that jealousy and distrust with which he formerly looked upon us is banished from his bosom." "It may be so," replied the prince; "yet I put not faith in the seeming of man's countenance. I know the craft of the calif, and the ready art with which he can conceal the most deadly designs under an exterior of mildness." "Your suspicions are unjust," said the princess. "I am sure they are unjust. All traces of his anger have vanished. He seems as kind, nay, kinder than ever." "Kinder than ever!" said the prince. "You have noted that then? So has it seemed to me, although I knew not but that anxiety might, in some degree, have given rise to my suspicions. When, even in his mildest moments, was your fa ther free from bursts of passion? yet weeks have passed away of late, and not a frown has ruffled his brow; an expression of unvarying, and, as I fear, assumed mildness, is always upon his countenance. Augurs this well? Believe me, no! I like not this unaccustomed kindness. Trust me, my life, thy father nourishes suspicions which, if confirmed, will not fail to destroy us. I would not wrong him even in mine own thoughts; still less would I disquiet your bosom by idle and ill-founded fears; but to guard against danger, is it not most necessary to be aware of its approach? I have crossed the desert when the simoom has been at hand, yet to the careless traveller no tokens could be seen of its approach. Not the slightest breeze, forerunning that dread blast, disturbed the lurid and murky air. Nature seemed motionless. The parched earth endured, without a struggle, all the cruelty that the fierce tyrant of the sky could inflict upon her. At these signs I have turned my horse's head towards a shelter, for I knew full well that the fatal tempest was near. Had I despised these warnings, and tarried until the angry wind had waked the waste from its sleep, and the earth in despair had shaken the desert from her bosom as though she would hurl its mountains of eddying sand into the face of her pitiless tormentor-had I waited for this, my bones would ere now have been whitening the plain." "I still think, Giafar, that the danger of which you speak exists but in your own fears; yet, grant that it were at hand, what could we do that might avert it?" "Let us "Much, in truth," replied the prince. beware of ourselves, let us watch with care over our own actions, lest, in some unguarded moment, we should betray that " The sentence was interrupted and concluded by a kiss, yet it seemed intelligible to the princess, for she coloured slightly, and replied," Have we not done this? What has occurred, either in word or look, that might strengthen my father in his anger ?" 66 Nothing, my life, in any manner," said the prince; "yet still how hard is it-I speak but for myself, when I say it-how hard is it to control those feelings which are swelling in the bosom. What resolution, what firmness, does it not require to repress, in the calif's presence, those acts of tenderness and of love, that would render but too plain our disobedience to his commands. Did the most ravishing music fall upon mine ear, my countenance should evince no tokens of pleasure: I could seem insensible to rare perfumes, though their sweet fragrance were steeping my senses in delight. I could view unmoved, even when worn with famine, a banquet of delicious viands, as though I had just risen, sated with its enjoyment. All these were easy of performance: as trials of self-control I should smile at them. But, dearest, 'tis no slight task to seem unmoved when with thee. When we look together upon some beautiful object, as we did upon that rich emerald to-day, my |