which seemed incapable of ebb. Besides, Perdita was with him in his

retirement; she saw the moodiness that succeeded to this forced hilarity;

she marked his disturbed sleep, his painful irritability--once she had

seen his tears--hers had scarce ceased to flow, since she had beheld the

big drops which disappointed pride had caused to gather in his eye, but

which pride was unable to dispel. What wonder then, that her feelings were

wrought to this pitch! I thus accounted to myself for her agitation; but

this was not all, and the sequel revealed another excuse.

One moment we seized before our departure, to take leave of our beloved

girls. I had small hope of success, and entreated Idris to watch over my

sister. As I approached the latter, she seized my hand, and drew me into

another apartment; she threw herself into my arms, and wept and sobbed

bitterly and long. I tried to soothe her; I bade her hope; I asked what

tremendous consequences would ensue even on our failure. "My brother," she

cried, "protector of my childhood, dear, most dear Lionel, my fate hangs by

a thread. I have you all about me now--you, the companion of my infancy;

Adrian, as dear to me as if bound by the ties of blood; Idris, the sister

of my heart, and her lovely offspring. This, O this may be the last time

that you will surround me thus!"

Abruptly she stopped, and then cried: "What have I said?--foolish false

girl that I am!" She looked wildly on me, and then suddenly calming

herself, apologized for what she called her unmeaning words, saying that

she must indeed be insane, for, while Raymond lived, she must be happy; and

then, though she still wept, she suffered me tranquilly to depart. Raymond

130

The Last Man