it "Aain." Thus, magic may be exercised unconsciously by a friend, and intentionally by an enemy, but is supposed to be equally destructive in both cases.

It is a severe law of an Arab never to speak of the events to be brought in by the future, without asking for the permission of Allah, as we say, "Please God;" nor does he go hunting, riding, or even undertake the smallest action without exclaiming, "In Allah's name!" This continual reference, in all acts and sayings, to God, gives to the existence of an Arab something like the warmth of faith, and the energy and devotion of which is peculiarly inspiring, and is brought out prominently on great and solemn occasions. Thus, an Arab meets no friend who may have been lately afflicted with some severe loss, without addressing some such sentences as these to him: "Open further your heart!" "God alone is immortal !" "Death is a tribute which we pay to God; there is neither favour or unkindness in it !" 66 Already in the lap of his mother has God determined the day of his death!" "Hold your soul upright; God recompenses every loss!" "We are pottery, and the potter does what he likes!" "Thank God, that your children are grown up!" To a wounded person consoling observations are also directed: "You are happy; God has marked you in the holy war, and has not forgotten you!" "Your illness is the fire, and you are the gold; you will, after your illness, be brighter before God!"

The consolations offered to those friends who have had bodily punishments inflicted on them are seldom without a vein of bitter satire. Thus, it is said, "Console yourself, God has made the stick for man and not for woman!" "Remember, that love and pleasure, but also a good beating await him whom his enemy detecteth stealing to his love, albeit that he is a young man !"

The congratulations are as numerous as the other modes of address. After a victory one says to the other: "May Allah permit our lord to be always so victorious!" "May our lord be a nail in the eyes of his enemies!" "Allah keep the warriors of Mahomet !"

At a wedding and christening, the customary congratulations are: "Allah gives, that through her your tent may be full !" the child live and not be the last !"

"May

As has already been said, the forms of courtesy of the Arab are unalterably determined, and the law book of the same is as well

known to the lowest shepherd in a pastoral tribe as to the noblest chieftain. The freedom of outward fashion is with them less peculiar to rank and position than with any other people. This is the origin of that true dignity of deportment which can hardly be denied to any Arab, and that urbanity in his manners, which, although to a certain extent superficial, is yet always calculated to make a favourable impression. The motto of the Arab in this respect is, "Play with the dogs, and they call themselves your cousins !"

This dignity of deportment is got not so entirely without an inner response, as the foregoing may lead to be inferred; it has a more solid and more deeply rooted purpose than the generally distributed polish of Asiatic manners. When an Arab of the lowest rank is seen, his head erect, and looking with a calm expression, a fearless eye, and without any signs of embarrassment or awkwardness, up at every one he meets, be he pasha, sultan, or khalif,-it may be traced mainly to the fact, that every Arab has, from the first hour of his childhood almost, had impressed upon him the principle, that there is the same distance to Allah from the khalif as from the clown, and that both have the same right to God's power and assistance.

This assurance of deportment is particularly observable in circles where Arabs meet together with conquering Frenchmen.

If an Arab should happen to find himself alone in a large company of Frenchmen, there never could be detected in him the least symptom of timidity; he never shows embarrassment or awkwardness, nor will he ever convey the idea that his position, as the conquered, lowers him in the least. On the contrary, he conceives within a considerable stock of contempt; and though conquered, he feels himself still, as a true believer, immeasurably superior to the victorious Christians.

But beyond this pride of creed, he is possessed of another equally philosophical and religious feeling. He does not undervalue the advantages of power, might, and splendour, nor yet the pleasures of luxury and indulgence; but were he to observe this, even in the palaces of our kings, he would first say to himself: "God might have given unto me also, all this, and I would have blessed him! but as it is, I bless him also, for my portion is certainly the best, as I believe in the Prophet; these have their paradise, in this short life, on earth, that I, who acknowledge the Prophet, may enjoy it in eternity."

Unfortunately for them, there is no mutuality in this firm and immoveable faith of theirs. They have the belief, but not the love; and they are, from top to toe, the most repulsive egotists. A precept of Islam has caused this selfishness, which renders the confessors of this faith so fearful: it is that which teaches that all our misfortunes here are caused by our own faults. The unfortunate is, therefore, accordingly also the guilty, whom to help, or even to pity, is a crime against the just will of God.

The anarchy amongst the Arab tribes has greatly contributed to give vitality to this odious, but to the lucky believer, most agreeable dogma. The social morality to

CHAPTER LXIII.

MRS. COVERDALE THINKS BETTER OF IT.

FOR two or three days after that on which the conversation between Coverdale and his wife took place, Alice continued much in the same condition; the idea that she should die, and that after her death Harry would espouse Arabella Crofton, and be much happier than she had been able to make him, appeared never absent from her mind; her appetite decreased, her sleep became broken and fitful, and Mr. Gouger's face grew longer, and his head shook more and more like that of Lord Burleigh in the "Critic," every time he visited her.

One morning, on Coverdale's return from the neighbouring town, whither he had ridden to procure some delicacy wherewith to try and tempt Alice's capricious appetite, he was equally surprised and pleased, on entering her room, to perceive a brightness in her eye and a colour in her cheek, such as he had feared never to see there again.

"Why, Alice darling, this fine morning has inspired you-you are looking more like yourself than I have seen you this many a long day!" he exclaimed, as he seated himself by the easy-chair which Alice had gained sufficient strength to use as a substitute for her couch.

Regarding him with a smile and blush,

* Continued from vol. vii. p. 270.

which tinged her pale cheeks with the most delicate rose colour, she replied

"You have grown very clever in reading people's faces of late, Harry dear; but you are quite right in fancying something has inspired me at least, if feeling very happy is what you mean by inspiration. But, oh! how foolish I have been! how wrong, how unjust I was ever to doubt you! Harry, dearest, can you forgive me for not feeling certain that you had always acted as nobly and generously before I knew you, as you have done since ? If you could tell how I hate and despise myself for my silly, illiberal suspicions! But you must wonder all this time what has set me raving in this strange way. What do you think of my having had a letter from-yes! actually from Miss Crofton, telling me-here, read it yourself. I am certain every word of it is true; and oh how I pity her for being obliged to write it, and, indeed, for the whole affair, poor thing!"

As Alice spoke she drew a letter from the pocket of her dress, and gave it to her husband; it ran as follows :

"I have received a note from Mr. Coverdale, urging me to release him from a promise he most kindly made me at a time when, bowed down by shame and contrition, his doing so saved me, as I verily believe, from madness or suicide. He tells me your health and his happiness depends upon my comply

ing with his request; it becomes then a duty in me to do so; and, however painful it may be, I will not flinch from it. It appears to me that the most effectual way to remove any misapprehension from your mind, in regard to the nature and extent of my acquaintance with Mr. Coverdale before his marriage, will be to giye you a concise account of the occurrences which took place during the summer I spent in Italy, whither I had accompanied a family of the name of Muir, in the capacity of governess. The Muirs were well-meaning, common-place people, not possessing the slightest taste or refinement of feeling. I was at that time young, and morbidly sensitive; and the slights they put upon me, without, as I can now perceive, intending any unkindness, or, indeed, being aware of the effect their thoughtlessness was producing upon me, were a daily martyrdom to my proud spirit. We spent three months at Florence; and shortly after we had settled there, John Muir, the eldest son, who had been making a tour among the Swiss mountains, rejoined his family, accompanied by Mr. Coverdale, who had known him at the university. Slightly attracted, I fancy, by the good looks of my eldest pupil, who was an unusually pretty nonentity, Mr. Coverdale, always talking of the necessity of his journey to the East, still lingered at Florence. The great kindness of heart and delicacy of feeling which lie hid under a roughness of manner, that can only mislead a very superficial observer, soon led him to perceive and pity my isolated position; and from the moment in which he became aware how keenly the sense of dependence preyed upon me, he treated me with a degree of deference and attention, which could not but contrast most favourably with the neglect I experienced from others. Under the cold manner, which circumstances have forced me to assume, I have concealed a naturally ardent and impetuous disposition, and as deeply as I had been affected by the ungenerous conduct of the Muirs, did I now appreciate Mr. Coverdale's sympathy and kindness-in a word, for I have resolved to conceal nothing from you, I loved him with all the force of my passionate nature. But the very strength of my feelings led me studiously to conceal them; nor, until the elopement of my eldest pupil with a scheming Italian adventurer broke up the party, did l give Mr. Coverdale the slightest opportunity of suspecting the warm interest he had

excited in me; but when about to bid him farewell as I imagined for ever, my selfcontrol gave way, and I burst into a passionate flood of tears. Equally grieved and surprised, he soothed me with his accustomed kind and considerate delicacy, begged me always to look upon him as a friend, and apply to him in any emergency as to a brother; and as soon as I became somewhat more composed, left me. The next tidings I heard of him were that he had quitted Florence. Scarcely had I retired to my room, to endeavour to calm my excitement, and to struggle to subdue my hopeless attachment in tears and solitude, when Mrs. Muir sent for me, and reproached me with equal virulence and unkindness for her daughter's elopement, which she declared to have been the consequence of my neglect. Had you,' she continued, 'been less engrossed by seeking to ensnare the affections of Mr. Coverdale, you would have been better able to perform the duties of your situation, and this misfortune might never have come upon us.' Stung by the mixture of truth and falsehood in this cruel reproach, I repliedI know not what,-proudly, and I can now well believe impertinently; and the next thing that I became aware of was, that a sum of money sufficient to defray my expenses to England was placed before me, and that I was dismissed. Thrown thus on my own resources in a foreign land, without a single friend near to help or advise me, what wonder that I instinctively turned to the only quarter from which I had for years (for mine had been a desolate youth) met with kindness, consideration, and sympathy; and that from the chaos of conflicting emotions, one idea alone stood out clear and defined— to seek out Harry Coverdale, throw myself on his generosity, tell my tale of sorrow and of love, and leave the result to him and destiny. That such a course was unwomanlyalmost unpardonable in me-none can be more bitterly aware than I am; but I pray God that those of my own sex who are inclined to condemn me, may never be tempted as I was tempted-may never fall as, but for the superhuman goodness of heart, and the tender, simple, yet chivalrous nature of your husband, I should have fallen. With me, to resolve and to act were simultaneous. lost not a moment in ascertaining the route Mr. Coverdale had taken, and ere the Muir family were aware of my departure, I had followed him to Fiumalba, a small town

I

within a few hours' journey of Florence. Without allowing myself an instant's time for reflection, I sought the hotel at which Mr. Coverdale was stopping, and in my distraction flung myself at his feet, and told him everything-how I loved him better than any other created being-better even than my own womanly pride and good name -how I felt convinced that such love as mine must in time win return-how that if he would make me his wife, I would devote every thought, every action of my future existence, to secure his happiness-how, if he refused me, I would lie down at his feet and die, but never leave him. Then did he indeed redeem his promise of acting by me as a brother-then did he save me from my worst enemy-myself. Having soothed and quieted my agony of spirit, by his calm good sense and judicious kindness, he appealed to my reason-set before me how, by yielding to my request, and making me the partner of his future life, while unable to feel for me that degree of affection without which such a tie must become unbearable, he would be doing me an injury rather than conferring a benefit; nor did he leave me until he had obtained my consent to allow him to return to Florence, explain the whole matter to Mr. Muir, expostulate with him as to the cruelty and injustice of thus dismissing me with an undeserved slur on my character as a governess, and endeavour to arrange that I should remain with his wife and daughter, and accompany them on their return to England. In this negotiation he was successful. Mr. Muir,—an easy, self-indulgent character, yet who could, on occasions such as that to which I refer, act kindly and honourably, accompanied Mr. Coverdale back to Fiumalba, where he informed me that he had prevailed on Mrs. Muir to agree to the above proposal, adding that he and Mr. Coverdale were the only persons aware of the imprudent step I had taken, and that they were both willing to make me a solemn promise never (unless by my desire) to reveal the transaction to any one. Utterly broken-spirited and miserable, I consented, and, taking leave of my preserver, returned with Mr. Muir to Florence. From that day, until our accidental meeting in Park Lane, I saw Mr. Coverdale no more. What it has cost me to write this I will not attempt to describe, but that every word of it is the simple truth I call Heaven to witness; that the knowledge of it may for ever reconcile

all differences between you and your noble, generous-hearted husband, and that you may be restored to make him as happy as I am certain it is in your power to do, is the wish and prayer of one who, if she has erred deeply has suffered equally, as she hopes, not without some good result.

"ARABELLA CROFTON."

When Harry had finished reading the letter, he returned it to his wife, observing

"That is, as she says, a faithful account of all that ever occurred between us. You now see why I was unable to explain to you the apparent mystery. I hold a promise to be so sacred a thing, that nothing-not even the loss of your affection-could induce me to break one. And now, my poor child, I hope you are satisfied that I indeed love you with my whole heart, and that the affection of a thousand Arabella Croftons would never compensate me for the loss of one bright smile or fond look from my own darling wife."

Alice attempted to reply, but her heart was too full for words: bursting into a flood of tears of mingled joy and contrition, she flung her arms around her husband's neck, and in that prolonged embrace ended once and for ever all Harry Coverdale's matrimonial disputes and discomforts.

CHAPTER LXIV.

D'ALMAYNE PLAYS HIS LAST CARD.

"LEAVE me, sir; I consider your very presence an insult!"

"Before you drive me from you for ever, I am determined to set plainly before you the results which must inevitably follow your decision, and show you unmistakably the difference between the future which awaits you, and the lot which might be even yet yours if you have only sufficient strength of character to cast aside the meaningless conventionalities of a false and hollow state of society." D'Almayne-for, as the reader has no doubt already conjectured, the foregoing speech proceeded from his lips-paused for a moment to control the excitement under which, despite his endeavours to conceal it, he was evidently labouring. Kate Crane appeared again about to interrupt him; but by a glance and a gesture of the hand he restrained her, while he continued: "You talk of marriage as a holy tie, and where such a bond is indeed one of the heart, I,

sceptic and libertine as you consider me, entirely agree with you; but such a term cannot apply to the cruel mockery which has bound youth, beauty, and intellect to age, decrepitude, and imbecility. But putting aside all idea of affection, the temptation which led you to commit this outrage against every better feeling of your nature, exists no longer. Mr. Crane is a ruined man; if, therefore, you adhere to the conventional prejudice which you vainly endeavour to dignify by the name of duty, you have nothing to hope, but to sacrifice to it the best years of your life,-years in which you will still be young, when your queenly beauty and bright clear intellect will fit you to shine in, and lead society of a class in which your elegant tastes and refined sympathies would meet with a gratification sufficient in itself to render life one scene of pleasurable excitement. But, more than this, you are ambitious; I can read it in your flashing eye, in the curl of your haughty lip. I would open to you such a field for that ambition as in your wildest moments you have never dreamed of. You do not believe me! You consider me a base, unscrupulous adventurer. If it were so, what have I ever had to call out the higher, nobler qualities of my nature? Nothing! But with such

a soul as yours to urge and inspire me, and with your love as my reward, to what height might not my genius soar ! What was the great Napoleon but a Corsican adventurer ? and yet his was a career an emperor's daughter was proud to share. You think I am romancing-talking bombastic nonsense; but it is not so. In America, at the present time, there is an immense field for talent. I know the character of the nation well, and know how both its strong and weak points could be turned to account, and form the ladder by which I might climb to the president's seat, and once there !-presidents have ere now become emperors-from democracy to despotism is the natural transition-history proves it. Since I have known you, a change has come over my every thought and feeling; hitherto I have exerted my talents merely to supply my own fastidious requirements, but now my ideas are enlarged, my aspirations heightened. Brought up from my earliest childhood among men, clever indeed, but without one pure thought, one disinterested feeling, I became what I am. You have excited in me higher, nobler feelings. I will not deny

that your beauty first attracted me ; but since I have known you, and each day discovered new qualities with which I could sympathize, I have learned to love you with the only deep, real sentiment I have ever felt for one of your sex. Hitherto I have looked on women as mere toys wherewith to solace one's leisure hours; but in you I recognize a loftier nature; I feel not only in the presence of an intelligence equal to my own, but I have an instinctive perception that you might become my leading star, my tutelary deity! Kate, hear me ! my destiny

is in your hands. -everything is

Fly with me to America prepared; and when we arrive on the soil of a new world, you shall become the bride of a man already possessed of riches sufficient to obtain for you luxuries greater than you have yet enjoyed, and with a gift riches are powerless to procure-talent which has never yet failed, however critical the position-talent which henceforward you shall direct into the course that may best win your approval; knowing that whatever career you may select, the sole reward I shall seek will be your approbation-my only happiness your affection. You have not heard me unmoved-you cannot, will not refuse me !"

As D'Almayne concluded, he fixed his eyes on Kate's face, as though he sought to read there his sentence before her lips should pronounce it, while his cheeks flushed, and his eyes glistened with unfeigned emotion. For an instant, unable to bear the intensity of his glance, Kate turned away with a heightened colour, then, recovering her selfpossession by a powerful effort, she replied, calmly,

"I have heard you thus far, Mr. D'Almayne, without interruption, partly because I believe that, for once, you are speaking under the influence of real feeling, partly because I owe you, as I imagine, a debt of gratitude for your kindness to my brother; these reasons have induced me to listen to addresses, every word of which I consider as the deepest insult which can be offered to a pure-minded woman. You tell me that I married Mr. Crane for money; I neither admit nor repel the accusation-like most taunts, it contains a half-truth, so disguised by sarcasm as to appear a whole one. But how doubly sordid should I be, were I to act on your suggestion, and quit my husband-who, if your supposition be correct, I have sufficiently wronged already, because he has, as you inform me, been swindled out of his wealth-how ↑