Then fearful and fleet as the chas'd deer she flew, Down the steep mountain's side, over chasm and brake. For well the bright arms of her hero she knew; Not the whirlwind's swift course could her flight overtake. Then she threw herself down her slain lover beside; She sigh'd not, she wept not, but heart-broken died. As she finished, tears stood in her eyes, and her voice trembled at the last lines. "Why sing you that mournful ditty, dear Zara?" said her friend. "It is too sad for one, whose eye sorrow has not dimmed, to sing." "I know not why I sing it," answered Zara; "but I could not help it, the words came flowing to my lips." "Who taught you so sad an air?" asked Ina. "A venerable bard who travelled once this way. His steps were feeble, and his locks were blanched with years, and, as he rested at our house he sang this air, gazing sorrowfully at my face, and made me learn these words, I know not why. He went his way, nor ever have I seen him since: but still, at times, a sadness comes upon me, and I sing this song." A deep-drawn sob was heard from the corner of the apartment where the young Conrin had thrown himself on a divan. "Come hither, Conrin," said Ina, in tones of kindness. He had been weeping; for his eyes were red and his features wore an air of sadness. "Why do you weep, dear Conrin? What makes you thus sorrowful?" "Sad thoughts and feelings," answered the page. "I have much to make me weep: but it was that song overcame me. I wept for the sad forebodings that it brought upon my soul, for myself I care not, but for those I have learned to love." "What causes have you for grief, dear boy?" said Ina. "Are you not happy here, where all so love you?" "I cannot tell you, lady," answered the page. "Why not tell me your grief? Perchance, confiding it to me, I may aid to mitigate it," said Ina. "Oh no, it is impossible; my grief is too deep for consolation; it is a secret I shall never tell," answered the page. "But, I may find a means to soothe it," urged Ina. "Lady, pray deem me not ungrateful; but again, I beseech you, let me leave you," exclaimed Conrin. "I love you much; but yet, I love your noble brother more. The only balm you can give to soothe me is to let me go to him." "But, why would you leave this calm retreat to hasten amidst scenes of war and bloodshed?" said Ina.