The solitude had no terrors for her, but she shrank back with alarm when the moon suddenly cast a long shadow across her pathway.

The shadow of a man! She stood still for a moment in a listening attitude.

"Allah protect me!" she murmured, as she drew her veil more closely about her and walked on.

She had almost reached the stairway when the shadow came close to her side, and a hand was laid on her shoulder.

"Stay, Masa," whispered a voice.

She trembled and sought to walk on, but her feet seemed chained to the ground. She thought the ghins were detaining her, and she prayed to Allah from her inmost soul to release her from their dread enchantment.

"Fear me not, Masa," said a kindly voice; "listen to me. I am no enemy."

"I do not fear you," said she, in low, faint tones. "I fear neither man nor the evil ghins, for the welis guard me, and my mother's eyes watch over me. Allah, too, is always with me wherever I go, by night or day. Yet I know that you are my enemy, because you are my father's enemy."

"Oh, do not say this! Your words pierce my heart."

"But yet you are my enemy, for you are my father's enemy; I know you, I recognize the fierce youth who took my father prisoner at the mosque this morning. It was you! I know you well, and my heart is breaking. You are the author of my father's misery. You do evil, and evil thoughts fill your heart. Let me pass, do not detain me! Let me return to my father's house. Masa must obey her father and master.

Remove your hand from my shoulder. It does not beseem a stranger to touch a chaste maiden with his impure hand. Let me pass."

"You say I am your enemy, your father's enemy. Believe me, Masa, I am not your enemy, not your father's enemy. An evil destiny has ordained that Mohammed Ali should be the instrument, the sword of justice, that he should grieve and wound her he would so gladly shield. The evil ghins have also ordained that I should carry out the law and assume a threatening attitude toward your father. I must submit to what Allah ordains, and proceed in the line of my duty.

But, Masa, you shall know that I am neither yours nor your father's enemy. You must know that I would shed my heart's blood to make undone that which I have commenced. O Masa, had I sooner beheld these eyes, that now look upon me with the brilliancy of the stars in heaven, had I sooner beheld the countenance that now beams upon me with the brightness of the young day, never would my mother's son have assumed a threatening attitude toward your father, never would Mohammed have undertaken to enforce the law against him. True, the evil ghins have brought this about, but hearken to me, Masa, and consider well that your father's welfare is at stake."

"I will not hear you," said she, tremblingly.

" I swear, by the spirit of my mother, that I have nothing to conceal before Allah and the prophet. Do not wound me, Masa, with your alarm. You seemed to me this morning the loveliest of women; until then Sitta Khadra was her son's only love. You must know that when she had died, Mohammed Ali fled into solitude and intended to take his own life. But in the solitude, Allah said to him: 'The life I have given you, bear with manfully, and take upon yourself the sufferings I see fit to visit upon you.'

"I bowed submissively to his commands; I left my solitude and raised myself by my sorrow as by a pillar. But in you I seemed to see my mother's spirit; then pain vanished from my heart, and my mother seemed to be regarding me through your eyes. Therefore, Masa, have I followed you. I have come to say that which brings the blush to my inmost soul, that which the ear of no other human being shall ever hear. In the name of my mother, I beseech you, do not let it be here upon this open path where men may pass, and which the foot of man has desecrated. In the name of the mother you love so well as you this morning declared in the mosque, and in the name of my mother whom I have loved as few sons have loved their mothers, in the name of the moon, and in the name of the golden stars that glitter above us, I entreat you, mount with me to the summit of the rock. There will Mohammed speak words to you that his tongue has never uttered before. There he will advise you how to save your father, and help the men of Praousta."

She looked up to the crest of the rock, bathed in the soft moonlight.

"You would lead me up there?" murmured she.

"I will lead you safely, or follow you, as the slave follows his mistress. The way is steep, but your feet are active as those of the gazelle. I now remember having sometimes observed your white figure and your flying footstep. Lightly like the dove have I seen you flit from rock to rock, and I have followed you with reverence. Yes, I have long known you; I have often seen you, and I know that the white dove need only spread her wings to flutter up to the Ear of Bucephalus. O Masa, I entreat you, spread your wings and fly! There I will speak with you of your father and of the future, of yours and of mine. Will you grant my request?"

She did not reply, but only regarded him with an inquiring, doubtful look.

Was it a mere accident, or had he purposely placed himself so that the light of the now waning moon shone full in his face? Was it by chance that he was so placed that a shadow was thrown over the place where she stood, which enabled her to gaze at him from out the darkness with her large, luminous eyes?

"I entreat you, Masa, go not down to your father's house, but ascend with me to the Ear of Bucephalus. There, where none but Allah and Nature can hear my words, I will speak to you of your father, and of the men of the village."

She drew her veil more closely about her and bowed her head. "Lead the way, Mohammed Ali, and I will follow."

And he, overwhelmed with happiness, knelt down and tenderly kissed the little foot that peeped out from beneath her white garments.

Then he arose, folded his arms upon his breast, and bowed his head in reverence before his queen.

"Your slave will lead the way," said he, softly; "be merciful, and follow him."

He then turned and began the ascent of the path that leads up to the crest of the rock. Masa followed, praying to herself that her mother's spirit might accompany and guard her from all danger.

Both were silent; Mohammed hastened on from rock to rock, higher and higher.

Mohammed was right. Masa fluttered lightly from cliff to cliff like a white dove.

At times he stood still and looked behind him.

It perhaps occurred to him that he was walking too rapidly, and should give her time to rest. Or he feared, perhaps, the heavenly form might suddenly vanish like the vision of a dream.

"See," said he, pointing to the moon now waxing pale in the heavens.

"See, the night is drawing to a close, and day is about to break. I wish to see the sun rise with you, O Masa!"

"I, too, desire it," was whispered in her heart, but her lips did not utter the words. "Lead the way, I follow you."

The whispering of the lips was to him as the command of a sovereign; he quickly turned and continued the ascent.

They had now reached the crest. And there, high above all earthly care and sorrow, the two, the youth and maiden stood, alone upon the lofty plateau.

They stood upon the spot of which Mohammed had said that it was not yet desecrated by the foot of man. Here it was lonely and solemn; here Allah and holy Nature could alone hear his words. And now, overcome by the wondrous picture that lay spread out before them, and perhaps unconsciously, Mohammed took the girl's hand; and, without being conscious of it, she allowed him to take it in his own and pass it to his lips.

The moon had vanished beneath the horizon, and there, where heaven and earth seemed united in sweet harmony, a purple hue, like a messenger from God, gradually overspread the sky. Who could tell where the earth ended and the heavens began; where the waves ceased to murmur and were commingled with the skies in Godlike majesty and love? Little purple clouds chased each other across the heavens like flying cupids, and here and there a star still faintly sparkling as if to tell of the Divine mysteries of creation.

And now the waters of the sea suddenly begin to swell, and the waves roll higher; they rear their white crests aloft, and a whispering pervades the air, as though the spirits of heaven and earth were pronouncing the morning prayer of the new day.

Upon the crest of the rock stand these two human beings, regarding the fading stars and the rising sun, hand-in-hand--they, too, a part of the holy universe created by Allah in the fulness of his grace.

And their souls and hearts are as innocent as were those of the first human pair in paradise, before the alluring voice of the serpent had yet been heard. The light of day still shines, as through a veil, but a rosy hue gradually overspreads the heavens, and, at last, the sun rises, in all its splendor from out the sea, as on the first morning of creation, and on each succeeding morning since, comes this holy, ever-renewed mystery of the sunrise, that tells of the surpassing glory of God. A wondrous murmuring rises up from the sea, and the birds are all awake, exulting in the brightness of the morning. The palm, the olive, and the myrtle groves, rustle in the breeze. The lark soars heavenward, singing its morning greeting. Even the eagle has spread his pinions, and is mounting aloft from his nest in the neighboring rocks, to do homage to the sun. It is as though all Nature were crying, exultingly, "The new day has awakened!"

"The sun has risen, Masa," cried Mohammed--"the night is past. As often as I have wandered among these rocks, never before has morning seemed so fair--never before have the sun's rays so filled my heart with warmth. Heretofore, the sunrise was but the signal for me to go in pursuit of game, or to prepare to cross over to Imbro, to look after the fishermen's nets, set out the day before. But to-day Allah proclaims to me why it is that the sunlight is so glorious, that the eagle soars so proudly aloft, that the waves surge so grandly. O Masa, I will tell you why it is thus: it is because they are all imbued with the spirit of creation, and this spirit is love-- eternal, illimitable love."

"Speak not thus," said the maiden, tremblingly. "Speak not thus to me. It does not beseem a maiden to listen to a man's words of love without the approval of her father."

"But will you not accord me this privilege, Masa?" asked he, gently.

"May I not go to your father and entreat him to give me the pure maiden, that she may accompany me through day and night?"

"No, do not speak thus," she repeated, tremblingly. "You told me you would speak of my father--speak of him, Mohammed Ali."

"Yes; of your father," murmured he. "I had so much, so very much to say to you, and now it seems to me that all is already said. What remains is as nothing, and is forgotten."

"You are mocking me," said she, gently. "You only wished to see if my father's daughter would be foolish enough to follow you where she should never go except at her father's side, or accompanied by women. You have punished me, Mohammed, for my folly and boldness in following you and confiding in you. If you have nothing to say to me, then let me quickly go and return to my father's house."

"No, Masa, do not go. I did not intend to mock you; I really had so much to say to you! Yet I know not how it is with me; it seems to me that if I have been transformed, created anew; that yesterday and its events are forgotten. I am as a new, a different being."

He could not hear the voice that whispered in her heart also, that the dawn of a new day had cast its spell over them both.

"Oh, speak to me of my father," she cried, in anxious tones.

"Yes, I will; I will call reason to my aid. Your father is my prisoner, and I have sworn that I would bring the rebels back to submission, and honor requires that I should finish what I have undertaken. I now deplore it in my inmost soul, now that the magic of your eyes has transformed me, and made of the fierce combatant a man who longs to fall at your feet, and pour out his heart's agony and bliss. And yet I cannot undo what I have begun. I registered an oath in the presence of the men of Praousta, and told them: --If you do not on the morrow comply with what I have commanded, in the name of the tschorbadji, I shall behead the prisoners that Allah has delivered into my hands!'"

"O my father!" cried Masa, loudly, in tones of anguish.