It was his purpose to stay at Riffa, till Tefza should be sufficiently recovered, and then he hoped to obtain freedom from his gratitude, without having recourse to violent measures. Kara Aziek, shut up in her uncle’s house with the privacy of mourning, would be almost inaccessible, were he near her abode, and it was therefore as well, perhaps, for them to be thus far asunder, till her grief was enough abated for them to concert together a mode of flight: two or three weeks longer, and he hoped to be with Benzaide in the cavila of Benzeroel. Tefza’s recovery was tryingly slow; and though he felt and acknowledged his obligation to the heroic faithfulness of Sebastian, he had not the heroism himself to repay it instantly by freedom:--he would only promise freedom hereafter, but no intreaties could prevail on him to fix the period. The sickly state of his body and mind pleaded so powerfully for indulgence, that Sebastian forbore to press the subject, secretly making up his mind to a decisive step, should the old man’s wearying irresolution render it necessary. In the midst of these inquietudes, another billet arrived from Kara Aziek, it was written hastily, and with a trembling hand: “Alas!” she said, “we are lost, my beloved! my uncle has just informed me, that the Basha of Syria, acquainted with my existence, has reclaimed my person--he is set out to receive me--light of my soul! am I again to be torn from thee? art thou to be lost to me at last?--despair and love change my whole nature; I am no longer thy timid, starting Aziek. I meditate a rash, ah me! perhaps an immodest step: I am going, disguised like one of thy sex, to seek refuge in flight; Benzaide and her husband will accompany me: we will bend our course to the dwelling of Abensallah, his piety will be our protection and our guide, wilt thou not meet me there, Sebastian? at least when gratitude and humanity have no longer claims on thee, wilt thou not hasten to her, whom the most passionate wishes, the wildest fears, consume hourly?--but oh! how sweet it is, to feel life burning out for thee! “Providence opens to me the door of liberty, this night perhaps, this night, ah! haste my beloved.” The most frightful pangs seized Sebastian on reading this letter, in their first paroxysm he was on the point of hastening to Tefza, casting himself at his feet, declaring his situation, and imploring permission to depart; but the next moment he trembled at the rash suggestion, confident that Tefza’s bigotry, would never pardon a Mahometan woman for loving a Christian.