n my freedom? Then
never will I leave this cell till thou hast told me all. I swear it, and
I will keep the oath.

Zara. Ernest, I implore thee, fly, or it may be too late. Thou canst not
help me, and I will not tell thee. Ah, leave me! I cannot save thee if
thou tarry now.

Ernest. Never, till thou hast told me by what noble sacrifice thou hast
saved this worthless life of mine. Let me free thee from thy sorrow,
Zara, or help thee bear it. Thou hast won my pardon, and I will not go
till thou hast told me how.

Zara. And wilt thou promise to go hence when I have told thee all, and
let me have the joy of knowing thou art safe?

Ernest. I _will_ leave thee, Zara, if thou canst bid me go. Now tell me
all thy sorrow, love, and let me share it with thee.

Zara. Ernest, I sought to save thee; for I had learned to love the noble
stranger who had done so kind a deed for me. I sought to win my father
back to gratitude. I wept and sued in vain,--he would not grant thy
life, the boon for which I prayed. Alone I watched above thee, and when
the warrant for thy death was sent, I took it from his pillow and
destroyed it. Thou wast safe. My father charged me with the deed; and
when I told him all, he bid me love no more, and leave thee to thy fate.
He bid me show how strong my woman's heart could be, and told me if I
yet desired thy freedom, I might win it if I took a solemn vow to wed
none but of my father's race. I took the vow, and thou art free. Ah, no
more!--and let us part while yet I have the strength to say farewell.

Ernest. And is it yet too late? Canst thou not take back the vow, and
yet be mine? I cannot leave thee,--rather be a captive here till thou
shalt set me free. Come, Zara, fly with me, and leave the father who
would blight thy life to satisfy a fierce revenge. Ah, come and let me
win thee back to love and happiness.

Zara. Ernest, tempt me not. By that sad vow I swore by all my future
hopes, and by my dead mother's spirit, I would never listen to thy words
of love. And stern and cruel tho' my father be, I cannot leave him now.
Deep and bitter though this sorrow be, 'tis nobler far to bear the
burden than to cast it down and seek in idle joys to banish penitence;
for thorns would lie amid the flowers. Farewell! Forget me, and in happy
England find some other heart to gladden with thy love. Oh, may she
prove as fond and faithful as thy Moorish Zara.

Ernest. I will plead no more, nor add to that sad heart a