which she knew nothing, that within twenty-four
hours she must be betrothed to Lanfranc.

"He has no time to lose in trifling. You
must consent and go with him at once."

This interview decided Guzla to act, and
made her dissimulate in her own defence.

"Bless me, father," said she, seizing his
hand, "that I may become strong and
valiant."

Misunderstanding her meaning he blessed
her, and even imprinted a kiss upon her forehead.
Then she went, strong, to her mother
and announced her intention of flying from
the house that night, and taking refuge
on the mountains of Lebanon; where there
were convents of holy women who wouid receive
her.

"Wilt thou come with me?" she said.

The mother answered that to fly, it was
necessary to be young and light of foot.
"We live amidst wealth," she said, "and yet
have no money. I will remain, but thou must
go. Take some jewels, but clothe thyself in
mean garments, those of the slave Zara."

The two women, mother and daughter,
waited till the sun had gone down; then
Guzla was clothed in the borrowed garments;
and, after many embraces and tears, climbed
over the garden wall and proceeded towards
the gates of the city.

The mother knew how terrible would be
the anger of Ibrahim when he discovered what
had taken place; but, she had persuaded
Guzla that when once convinced how repugnant
this marriage was to her, he would
relent. Moreover, she had determined to
sacrifice herself to insure the safety of her
daughter. The absence of both would have
been at once perceived. But, at supper-time it
was easy to persuade the father and Lanfranc
that Guzla had preferred remaining in her
room, from modesty or some other similar
reason. Afterwards the poor mother had a
terrible fright. Zara came to her and whispered:
"Why have you taken my garments
and put them upon Guzla, and helped her to
get over the garden wall?"

The only answer was an imploring glance.

"It is not good," said the slave-girl, "that
Guzla should go to the mountains alone. I
will follow her, and before morning we shall
be together." So, Zara departed, and was
soon running lightly along the path leading
towards the wildest parts of Lebanon,
whither she knew her young mistress desired
to repair.

Next morning the truth became known;
and Ibrahim drew his sword to slay the
mother of Guzla; but something in her glance
checked him. He was content to lock her in
her room, and bid Lanfranc seek out traces of
the fugitives, and follow and bring them back.

Meanwhile, Guzla, with leaping heart and
uncertain steps, had passed through the
city-gates and hastened towards the East,
trusting to Providence to be her guide. She
paused at a little ruined chapel in the fields,
and prayed for protection. Then, her imagination
began to warm, and her courage to
increase. She even beheld, says the legend,
a bright star moving low along the earth before
her; and, giving herself up to faith, followed
it until she came to the foot of the
mountains. Then it disappeared. She took
this to be a warning that she must pause
and rest; and, turning aside, went and sat
under a tree. Scarcely had she quitted the
path when a party of men, speaking loud
and boisterously, came along it. If she had
continued her journey she must have met
them, and there might have been danger.
Presently afterwards the star shone again;
and, getting up, she proceeded, ascending the
steep slope until again she was warned to
halt. This time she took refuge in a Mohammedan
tomb, where she fell asleep, and
dreamed that her mother was fanning her as
she lay, or stooping over her, and kissing her
between the eyes. When she woke, the sun
was shining over the far up summits of the
mountains, down along its wood slopes where
mist and light clouds here and there linger,
illuminating the fertile plain, and sparkling
in the indigo-coloured sea, which advanced in
innumerable curves and creeks far into the
land. The city of Beyrout was distinctly
visible at her feet; and she thought even
that she could hear the hum of its awaking
population, in the midst of which—sharp
and clearly defined as the lark's song in
the sky above—she could hear the infallible
notes of a mother's voice praying for her
absent child.

She stood out before the tomb a moment
to measure with a glance the space she
had traversed during the night. Her name
was pronounced by a voice among the
bushes below. Looking down in affright she
beheld Zara, who had lost her way in the
darkness, climbing up out of breath.

"Art thou come to help those who wish
to take me?" said Guzla. "Know that I
have a sharp knife in one sleeve, and a string
of pearls in the other. Which wilt thou
have?"

"I have come to be the companion of thy
steps," was the reply.

Then the slave-girl related how she had
become possessed of her secret; and they
agreed to go on together in search of a place
of refuge.

They climbed still higher—sometimes entering
woody gorges—sometimes coming out
again into view of the vast country below.
Suddenly, Guzla said to Zara:

"I see a group of horsemen galloping. Look
whether they do not seem to be our pursuers."

"They may be," replied Zara; "but they
are far distant: the road for horses winds and
winds, and they cannot reach this place for
hours. Let us leave the broad track, and
go towards the cedars."

They accordingly struck in amidst the trees,
and proceeded until nightfall: sometimes