Nearly a month elapsed, and after this weary time to me, Ismail returned, accompanied by Hoosein. My father, for so I shall call him, remarked a change in my appearance, which I accounted for as I had done to the Moola, and he seemed satisfied. But was I? Oh, no! I was consumed by my burning curiosity to know all that was hidden from me. I could not sleep at nights, and became sullen, and oppressed with thoughts which led me to no conclusions. At one time I had formed the determination to leave my father, and seek my fortune; and had actually packed up a few of my clothes, and a little money I had, and resolved to leave the town in the night, little caring where my fate should lead me; but when the time came, the sense of my desolation so pressed upon me, that I abandoned the idea, and remained. I trusted to time for clearing up the mystery that hung over me, but at the same time determined that I would be more watchful over my father and his companions than I had ever been before. And many were the resolutions I made to speak to him on the subject nearest my heart; yet even when opportunities occurred, I could not bring myself to the task. It was not that I was timid--naturally I was brave--it was a mysterious consciousness that I should hear something (whenever I should hear it) that was strange, nay, fearful, that deterred me; but why this feeling should have so possessed me I cannot now tell, yet so it was. One evening, Ismail sent for me to his sleeping-room. I had been rarely admitted to it, and my heart beat fearfully, with a presentiment that I was upon the crisis of my fate.--Ismail too seemed to me to be disturbed; he bade me sit down, and we sat silently for some time gazing on one another. There was only one small oil light burning in a recess of the wall, which made the apartment very gloomy, and this trifling circumstance contributed still more to increase the morbid feeling within me. I believe I almost gasped for breath; I could bear it no longer. I arose, threw myself at his feet, and burst into a passionate fit of weeping. "Why, Ameer, my child, my son," said he, kindly and caressingly, "what is this? what has troubled you? has some fair one bewitched you? have you got into any difficulty while I have been away? Tell me, my boy; you know you have no one in the world so fond of you as your father, and, alas! you have now no mother."