"Perhaps I am as ignorant of your sort of love as you seem to consider my women,” replied Achmet, thoughtfully. "Oh! I doubt it not. I never even heard of a Turk who had the least idea of what love meant." "You shall tell me, then, fair creature, what it signifies, according to your ideas." 66 "It is," said Camilla, raising her bewitching eyes to his, an interest so absorbing, that a lover will always prefer the happiness of his beloved to his own. All passions are swallowed up in this one engrossing emotion. He exists but for the happiness of loving, and would prefer dying with her, to living without her." "I certainly have never been loved after this fashion," said the Pacha, after a long pause; " yet, nothing less will content me now. And you, Camilla, have you a lover in your own country?" 66 Oh, many." "One that you love thus ?" "No, I have not." "I fear you are deceiving me." Holy Virgin! what a man is this that will not be satisfied with sincerity and plain dealing!" “ My good Pacha, you must not flatter yourself into such a supposition. What title have you to "I will strive to deserve it. I will restore your cousins to their liberty." "For which I shall feel most grateful. But it is not one compliance, or two, or even twenty, that will entitle a man to my love." "Oh, that you would teach me how to obtain it!" said Achmet, passionately. "Come, I will encourage you a little; you are behaving pretty well, at present. Yesterday I detested your very name-to-day you are almost endurable; and if you wish to leave an agreeable impression, you will permit me to retire." "No, I cannot part with you, beautiful Camilla; you shall stay and enchant me with your presence." "I shall do no such thing. If you force me to remain with you against my will, I shall say very disobliging things, and then we shall quarrel." “ Go, then, my Peri! but in your dreams tonight, remember your adoring Achmet." "I hope, if I dream at all, to be favoured with a sweet vision of my native land, and return in slumber to the fair hills of Castile." "Is your country, then, so dear to you?" asked Achmet, mournfully. "My country!" said Camilla, her lovely eyes suffusing with tears, as the thought of home passed over her mind " and shall I never behold your orangegroves again, nor hear the rush of your mighty streams, but die like a transplanted flower in a foreign soil!" Such scenes as these were of daily recurrence during the time that preparations were making for the departure of Beatrice and Antonia; sometimes they did not end so placably. "It is I that am the slave," would Achmet say, when the fair Spaniard made him feel, too severely; the chains that bound him "the slave of your caprices, Camilla. Would that I had never seen you !" Surely, Achmet, that was my misfortune, since I had not the slightest wish to become the victim of the lawless traffic in women that prevails in this disgusting country." 66 By Mahomet, you never open your lips but with the design of saying something vexatious. Till I saw you, I was happy; but you have made me the most miserable of men! I am wretched when absent from you; and when I am near you, your whole study is to torment me." At other times Achmet would sit in Camilla's apartment, listening to her guitar his whole soul entranced in the pleasure of hearing and seeing her. One day, when he was thus occupied, Beatrice and Antonia entered, to bid farewell, as all things were ready for their departure. When they offered their thanks to Achmet, he said- "Your gratitude is due to Camilla, who, when she might have used her boundless influence over me to obtain her own liberty, preferred making you happy." "Because my love for them prevailed over every selfish consideration," said Camilla, with a significant glance. "Ah, Camilla, I understand your allusion. Go; you are free. Return to Spain — that beloved country which you prefer to Achmet." His voice faltered as he spoke Camilla looked up their eyes met- they both burst into tears. "Ah! exclaimed Beatrice, you love one another; wherefore, then, should you part?” The Pacha threw himself at Camilla's feet. "Light of my eyes! will you leave me?" "Achmet, I cannot share a divided heart." "I swear to you, by Allah, that my harem shall be dismissed, and you shall be my only wife." Ah, Achmet, there is another thought," said Camilla, weeping; you are a follower of the False Prophet, and I am a believer in the only faith whereby we may have eternal life.” Camilla, you speak dark things, and hard to be understood; but only promise to be mine, and I will hear you patiently on these matters; and if convinced, I will not cling to error." It may be easily imagined, that Beatrice and Antonia departed for Spain without Camilla, who became Achmet Pacha's bride; and who ere long had the happiness of informing her cousins, by letter, that he had become a secret but decided proselyte to Christianity. A. S. BALLAD. BY THE ETTRICK SHEPHERD. Now lock my chamber door, father, A slumber deep may ease my smart, But there's a pang at my young heart That never more can leave it. O let me lie and weep my fill O'er wounds that heal can never; Or how can heart of maiden bear Ah, why should vows so fondly made |