第90章

In the strength and ardor of her love, she had not cared to deny that this was so, and firmly declared that she would be his alone;and therefore had she come up to the palace to nurse and wait on him she loved, in his illness and distress.

The tschorbadji did not oppose her wishes, and the poor, delicate youth Osman was well pleased to have Ada's assistance in nursing his friend.

She had been at his bedside constantly, and listened eagerly to the words that fell from his lips in the delirium of his fever. Ada would lie on her knees beside him, absorbed in those mysterious outpourings of the human heart; listening to his descriptions of the object of his great love, of his Masa, of her fate, and hear his oaths of vengeance.

After the days of fever, and of the outpourings of anguish, came the days of exhaustion and of returning consciousness. The struggle between life and death lasted long, but life was at last victorious.

Mohammed now felt his weakness, and he lay, as in the beginning of his illness, for many a day, motionless, on his bed, with widely-opened eyes, staring around him.

But he now saw, and was conscious of what he saw.

He saw his friend Osman, who followed his every movement with tender glances, and whose countenance shone with delight when Mohammed smiled on him, and told him with a look that he recognized him, and knew of his love. He saw, too, the veiled woman, who flitted about him, reading his every wish in his face, and fulfilling it before he expressed it. It touched his heart to perceive that there was still a woman who cared for him, and was anxious on his account. He had believed himself alone in the wide world, and there were now beside him two beings that shared his sorrow, and whose hearts beat warmly for him. This was written in their countenances; this their busy, anxious movements betrayed.

When he was sufficiently recovered to be spoken to, Osman told him of Ada's love, of her grief on his account, of her joy in being permitted to nurse him, and of her having separated herself from the past, forsaking all else to serve him and him alone.

He made no reply, but closed his eyes, and a low groan escaped his lips.

Poor Ada! The story of her love reminds him of his own, and for a moment the old wound bleeds afresh.

Could he be ungrateful? Could he now abandon her who had forsaken every thing for him when he was in distress, and needed her care?

Could he do this now, when strength had returned to him, now that he was able to walk in the garden, supported on his friend Osman's arm?

Could he forsake her who walked beside him, her eyes sparkling with delight at his recovery?

And when the tschorbadji came, now that Mohammed was strong enough to occupy himself with his future business matters, and spoke to him seriously, and, with Ada's consent, formally proposed his marriage with his niece, in order that her reputation might not suffer, and that she might regain the position she had lost before the world on his account, could he cowardly decline, and excuse himself with his own grief? Would it become him to say, "Let the woman who has loved me live in disgrace!" Could he do this?

No, he felt that it would be cruel in him to act thus; and how could he be cruel, he who had suffered so much from the inhumanity of others?

He accepted the tscborbadji's proposal. He went to Ada, who awaited him, her heart throbbing anxiously, and asked her if she would be his wife, follow him to his house, and walk with him through life in sorrow and in joy.

He asked this question in a sad, low voice, and Ada knew what lay buried in the depths of his heart; but she, nevertheless, accepted his offer, and consoled herself with the thought: "All things pass away, and time heals all wounds."She became his wife, and brought with her a rich dowry.

He had, however, made no inquiries after this; did not care for it;and did not rejoice when, on the morning after the wedding, the tschorbadji took his arm and conducted him to one of the largest and best houses in the main street of Cavalla. He showed him the store and parlors, and led him up the stone stairway into the apartments of the harem, that were richly furnished and adorned.

Nor did he smile when, on descending the stairway, Ada met him, and begged him, in her gentle voice, to accept the house and all it contained as his property, as a love-offering from her.

He thanked her with many kind and tender words, yet Ada felt that the wound still burned in his soul, and the sad tone of his voice did not escape her. The house was handsome, and so was the store.