hope was cast on a chance that might prove a blank. The wife and lovely

child of Lord Raymond became objects of intense interest in Athens. The

gates of their abode were besieged, audible prayers were breathed for his

restoration; all these circumstances added to the dismay and fears of

Perdita.

My exertions were unremitted: after a time I left Athens, and joined the

army stationed at Kishan in Thrace. Bribery, threats, and intrigue, soon

discovered the secret that Raymond was alive, a prisoner, suffering the

most rigorous confinement and wanton cruelties. We put in movement every

impulse of policy and money to redeem him from their hands.

The impatience of my sister's disposition now returned on her, awakened by

repentance, sharpened by remorse. The very beauty of the Grecian climate,

during the season of spring, added torture to her sensations. The

unexampled loveliness of the flower-clad earth--the genial sunshine and

grateful shade--the melody of the birds--the majesty of the woods--

the splendour of the marble ruins--the clear effulgence of the stars by

night--the combination of all that was exciting and voluptuous in this

transcending land, by inspiring a quicker spirit of life and an added

sensitiveness to every articulation of her frame, only gave edge to the

poignancy of her grief. Each long hour was counted, and "He suffers" was

the burthen of all her thoughts. She abstained from food; she lay on the

bare earth, and, by such mimickry of his enforced torments, endeavoured to

hold communion with his distant pain. I remembered in one of her harshest

moments a quotation of mine had roused her to anger and disdain. "Perdita,"

220

The Last Man