te repulse. What human heart is
shut to kindness? and though poverty, in its excess, might render the
sufferer unapt to submit to the supposed degradation of a benefit, the zeal
of the benefactor must at last relax him into thankfulness. These thoughts
encouraged Raymond, as he stood at the door of the highest room of the
house. After trying vainly to enter the other apartments, he perceived just
within the threshold of this one, a pair of small Turkish slippers; the
door was ajar, but all was silent within. It was probable that the inmate
was absent, but secure that he had found the right person, our adventurous
Protector was tempted to enter, to leave a purse on the table, and silently
depart. In pursuance of this idea, he pushed open the door gently--but
the room was inhabited.

Raymond had never visited the dwellings of want, and the scene that now
presented itself struck him to the heart. The floor was sunk in many
places; the walls ragged and bare--the ceiling weather-stained--a
tattered bed stood in the corner; there were but two chairs in the room,
and a rough broken table, on which was a light in a tin candlestick;--yet
in the midst of such drear and heart sickening poverty, there was an air of
order and cleanliness that surprised him. The thought was fleeting; for his
attention was instantly drawn towards the inhabitant of this wretched
abode. It was a female. She sat at the table; one small hand shaded her
eyes from the candle; the other held a pencil; her looks were fixed on a
drawing before her, which Raymond recognized as the design presented to
him. Her whole appearance awakened his deepest interest. Her dark hair was
braided and twined in thick knots like the head-dress of a Grecian statue;
her garb was mean, but her attitude might have been selected as a model of
grace. Raymond had a confused remembrance that he had seen such a form
before; he walked across the room; she did not raise her eyes, merely
asking in Romaic, who is there? "A friend," replied Raymond in the same
dialect. She looked up wondering, and he saw that it was Evadne Zaimi.
Evadne, once the idol of Adrian's affections; and who, for the sake of her
present visitor, had disdained the noble youth, and then, neglected by him
she loved, with crushed hopes and a stinging sense of misery, had returned
to her native Greece. What revolution of fortune could have brought her to
England, and housed her thus?

Raymond recognized her; and his manne