THE crest of the palm tree in the garden of Eva glittered in the declining sun; and the lady of Bethany sat in her kiosk on the margin of the fountain, unconsciously playing with a flower, and gazing in abstraction on the waters. She had left Tancred with her father, now convalescent. They had passed the morning together, talking over the strange events that had occurred since they first became acquainted on this very spot; and now the lady of Bethany had retired to her own thoughts.

A sound disturbed her; she looked up and recognised Tancred.

‘I could not refrain from seeing the sun set on Arabia,’ he said; ‘I had almost induced the noble Besso to be my companion.’

‘The year is too old,’ said Eva, not very composed.

‘They should be midsummer nights,’ said Tancred, ‘as on my first visit here; that hour thrice blessed!’ ‘We know not what is blessed in this world,’ said Eva, mournfully.

‘I feel I do,’ murmured Tancred; and he also seated himself on the margin of the fountain.

‘Of all the strange incidents and feelings that we have been talking over this day,’ said Eva, ‘there seems to me but one result; and that is, sadness.’

‘It is certainly not joy,’ said Tancred.

‘There comes over me a great despondency,’ said Eva, ‘I know not why, my convictions are as profound as they were, my hopes should not be less high, and yet ——’

‘And what?’ said Tancred, in a low, sweet voice, for she hesitated.

‘I have a vague impression,’ said Eva, sorrowfully, ‘that there have been heroic aspirations wasted, and noble energies thrown away; and yet, perhaps,’ she added, in a faltering tone, ‘there is no one to blame. Perhaps, all this time, we have been dreaming over an unattainable end, and the only source of deception is our own imagination.’

‘My faith is firm,’ said Tancred; ‘but if anything could make it falter, it would be to find you wavering.’

‘Perhaps it is the twilight hour,’ said Eva, with a faint smile. ‘It sometimes makes one sad.’

‘There is no sadness where there is sympathy,’ said Tancred, in a low voice. ‘I have been, I am sad, when I am alone: but when I am with you, my spirit is sustained, and would be, come what might.’

‘And yet ——’ said Eva; and she paused.

‘And what?’

‘Your feelings cannot be what they were before all this happened; when you thought only of a divine cause, of stars, of angels, and of our peculiar and gifted land. No, no; now it is all mixed up with intrigue, and politics, and management, and baffled schemes, and cunning arts of men. You may be, you are, free from all this, but your faith is not the same. You no longer believe in Arabia.’

‘Why, thou to me art Arabia,’ said Tancred, advancing and kneeling at her side. ‘The angel of Arabia, and of my life and spirit! Talk not to me of faltering faith: mine is intense. Talk not t............