when he asked her where they should go, she clasped her hands on her forehead, as if to collect her scattered senses, but the effort was vain. It was so dark when she had reached the place of her father's confinement, her brain was so frenzied when she left it, that she retained not the faintest recollection of its situation.

"Oh God!" (she exclaimed)" is not the measure of my suffering yet complete? Is my father to perish, is he to die in other arms than those of his child? Should he believe too that he

is deserted by her?" The idea was frenzy. She attempted to spring out of the carriage, as if instinct would guide her to her parent, but Lord B drew her back. He called to the footman and enquired if they knew of any lock-up house in the neighbourhood; the man mentioned one, and

they drove to it, but it contained not the archon's family;--they were directed to another, and were again disappointed. In this manner they continued to drive till near midnight, and until they were at last directed to that which contained the archon. Ida instantly recognized the bailiff who came to the door of the carriage;-she had not the power to enquire for her father; she trembled to an excess that prevented her moving. Lord Bsupported her, and they proceeded to the prison-room of her family. It was lit up by one solitary candle.

The Paramana seated at the head of the bed, supported the archon in her arms, one of his sons held

a cup

of

wine and water to his lips, supplied by the bailiff's wife, who stood near him. The other boy was engaged in rubbing his father's damp and chilly hands,

which he bathed with his innocent tears at sight of Ida they uttered a piercing shriek of joy; she rushed to the bed, and took her father in her arms; the children knelt beside them; the archon turned his eyes on his daughter; a faint but ghastly smile lit up his features; he turned then on his sons, for a moment, and then dropping his head on Ida's shoulder, expired with a gentle sigh.

If there are sufferings, which (however dreadful in their endurance) are yet susceptible of amelioration, the sorrow which a parent's loss awakens is not among the number; other ties may be replaced, other affections may be restored, but when death breaks the bond of filial love, nature, honouring

a sentiment less pure,

the most sacred of her feelings, forbids less strong, succeeding to it; and though the tear which sorrow sheds upon the parent's grave, may be dried up by time, the loss which bids that tear to flow, can never be replaced by human tenderness, or human power!

It was not till six long weeks of hopeless suffering had passed over the head of Ida, that she came to a full sense of her delicate and singular situation. Her father's debts had been paid by Lord B-; he had placed her brothers at a small private school, and sent the Paramana to take care of and attend them. And she was herself residing at a beautiful villa, belonging to him, a few miles from London, where her wishes were anticipated, and her will seemed a law. Lord B- did not reside in the house, but he came

The pu

every day to visit her, and to pay her those soothing and delicate attentions so necessary and so gracious to a being so desolate and so afflicted. rity of the air, the regularity of her life, and the native strength and excellence of her constitution, triumphed over the languor and delicacy which lingering suffering had left behind it.

The traces of her sorrow added to the expression of her beauty, and restored to her countenance and person that air of touching tender languishment, which had formed the interest of her charms, in the shades of Livadia. Her spirits had not yet reached their wonted tone, but her mind was already recovering its native strength, and unwearied activity. She had written to her uncle, who was the most opulent merchant in Constantinople; and in the interval which must elapse before