Ah, me! Ah, me!" The young maiden covered her face with her hands, and sank into a passionate reverie, broken only by her sobs.

Some time had passed in this undisturbed indulgence of her grief, when the arras was gently put aside, and a man, of remarkable garb and mien, advanced into the chamber, pausing as he beheld her dejected attitude, and gazing on her with a look on which pity and tenderness seemed to struggle against habitual severity and sternness.
"Leila!" said the intruder.
Leila started, and and a deep blush suffused her countenance; she dashed the tears from her eyes, and came forward with a vain attempt to smile.
"My father, welcome!" The stranger seated himself on the cushions, and motioned Leila to his side.
"These tears are fresh upon thy cheek," said he, gravely; "they are the witness of thy race! our daughters are born to weep, and our sons to groan! ashes are on the head of the mighty, and the Fountains of the Beautiful run with gall! Oh that we could but struggle--that we could but dare--that we could raise up, our heads, and unite against the bondage of the evil doer! It may not be--but one man shall avenge a nation!" The dark face of Leila's father, well fitted to express powerful emotion, became terrible in its wrath and passion; his brow and lip worked convulsively; but the paroxysm was brief; and scarce could she shudder at its intensity ere it had subsided into calm.
"Enough of these thoughts, which thou, a woman and a child, art not formed to witness.

Leila, thou hast been nurtured with tenderness, and schooled with care.

Harsh and unloving may I have seemed to thee, but I would have shed the best drops of my heart to have saved thy young years from a single pang.

Nay, listen to me silently.