"You are so engrossed with other thoughts, that you have not felt the compliment shown you by my taking such interest about you, sir." "Yes, I do--I feel and thank you too, Amine. Forgive me, if I have been rude; but recollect, the secret is not mine--at least, I feel as if it were not. God knows, I wish I never had known it, for it has blasted all my hopes in life." Philip was silent; and when he raised his eyes, he found that Amine's were fixed upon him. "Would you read my thoughts, Amine, or my secret?" "Your thoughts perhaps--your secret I would not; yet do I grieve that it should oppress you so heavily as evidently it does. It must, indeed, be one of awe to bear down a mind like yours, Philip." "Where did you learn to be so brave, Amine?" said Philip, changing the conversation. "Circumstances make people brave or otherwise; those who are accustomed to difficulty and danger fear them not." "And where have you met with them, Amine?" "In the country where I was born, not in this dank and muddy land." "Will you trust me with the story of your former life, Amine? I can be secret, if you wish." "That you can be secret perhaps, against my wish, you have already proved to me," replied Amine, smiling; "and you have a claim to know something of the life you have preserved. I cannot tell you much, but what I can will be sufficient. My father, when a lad on board of a trading vessel, was taken by the Moors, and sold as a slave to a Hakim, or physician, of their country. Finding him very intelligent, the Moor brought him up as an assistant, and it was under this man that he obtained a knowledge of the art. In a few years he was equal to his master; but, as a slave, he worked not for himself. You know, indeed it cannot be concealed, my father's avarice. He sighed to become as wealthy as his master, and to obtain his freedom; he became a follower of Mahomet, after which he was free, and practised for himself. He took a wife from an Arab family, the daughter of a chief whom he had restored to health, and he settled in the country. I was born; he amassed wealth, and became much celebrated; but the son of a Bey dying under his hands was the excuse for persecuting him. His head was forfeited, but he escaped; not, however, without the loss of all his beloved wealth. My mother and I went with him; he fled to the Bedouins, with whom we remained some years. There I was accustomed to rapid marches, wild and fierce attacks, defeat and flight, and oftentimes to indiscriminate slaughter. But the Bedouins paid not well for my father's services, and gold was his idol. Hearing that the Bey was dead, he returned to Cairo, where he again practised. He was allowed once more to amass until the heap was sufficient to excite the cupidity of the new Bey; but this time he was fortunately made acquainted with the intentions of the ruler. He again escaped, with a portion of his wealth, in a small vessel, and gained the Spanish