two hours. Left to my meditations, when
I thought that I was probably about to be deprived for ever of the
Hermit's conversation and society, I felt the wretchedness of my situation
recur with all its former force. I sat down on a smooth rock under a
tamarind tree, the scene of many an interesting conference between the
Brahmin and myself; and I cast my eyes around--but how changed was every
thing before me! I no longer regarded the sparkling eddies of the little
cascade which fell down a steep rock at the upper end of the garden, and
formed a pellucid basin below. The gay flowers and rich foliage of this
genial climate--the bright plumage and cheerful notes of the birds--were
all there; but my mind was not in a state to relish them. I arose, and in
extreme agitation rambled over this little Eden, in which I had passed so
many delightful hours.

Before the allotted time had elapsed--shall I confess it?--my fears for
the Hermit were overcome by those that were purely selfish. It occurred
to me, if he should thus suddenly die, and I be found alone in his cell,
I might be charged with being his murderer; and my courage, which, from
long inaction, had sadly declined of late, deserted me at the thought.
After the most torturing suspense, the dial at length showed me that the
two hours had elapsed, and I hastened to the cell.

I paused a moment at the door, afraid to enter, or even look in; made one
or two steps, and hearing no sound, concluded that all was over with the
Hermit, and that my own doom was sealed. My delight was inexpressible,
therefore, when I perceived that he still breathed, and when, on drawing
nearer, I found that he slept soundly. In a moment I passed from misery
to bliss. I seated myself by his side, and there remained for more than
an hour, enjoying the transition of my feelings. At length he awoke, and
casting on me a look of placid benignity, said,--"Atterley, my time is
not yet come. Though resigned to death, I am content to live. The worst
is over. I am already almost restored to health." I then administered to
him some refreshments, and, after a while, left him to repose. On again
repairing to the garden, every object assumed its wonted appearance. The
fragrance of the orange and the jasmine was no longer lost to me. The
humming birds, which swarmed round the flowering cytisus and the beautiful
water-fall, once more delighted the eye and the ear. I took my usual
bath, as the sun was sinking below t