University of Virginia Library

18. XVIII.

But Amri was not to be baffled. He had set his
thought upon the possession of Thyrza; and, with that
persevering fixedness of purpose which, in a good pursuit,
would command circumstances and achieve greatness,
he concentrated all the forces of his mind upon the
attainment of an evil object. He saw all the difficulties
before him at a glance, and he felt that his entire
prospect of success must lie in his perpetual watch over
the movements of Melchior. Without a knowledge of
these movements, he could hope for none of the opportunities
which he desired with the daughter. He mused
his plan aloud in his chamber.

“Melchior will change his abode after this. By
night he will be gone. His steps must be regarded
closely. What then? Shall I deliver him yet to Edacer?
Why should I keep terms with him? True, he
is of my tribe, but he regards me not as one of it. He
doubts my faith,—he distrusts my honour,—there need
be no terms between us.”

An agent, whom he had called, now entered the
apartment. Mahlon was a creature in his pay, and
partially in his confidence.

“Mahlon, hast thou prepared thyself as I bade thee?”
was the question of Amri.

“The habit is ready, Amri; and I can now conceal

myself within it so that Adoniakim himself could not
distinguish me, even if I stood before him.”

“It is well. Go then, as I bade thee, and watch the
dwelling of Barzelius in front. Barzai keeps watch
upon the inner court. Watch closely when Melchior
comes forth, and the page—do not fail to note if the
page goes with him;—follow them so that they escape
not an instant from thine eyes, then come to me, to the
dwelling of the Lord Edacer, and report to me the
truth. Away!”

The spy departed, and the youth resumed his musings
aloud.

“I owe him no love—nothing but hate; and, though
of my own tribe, wherefore should I be held by that to
keep from destruction one who hates and distrusts me?
He shall perish! Melchior shall perish for his scorn of
me!”

He paused, and strode his chamber as if in troubled
thought. He spoke again after a slight interval.

“Yet his sacrifice brings me no step nearer to her,
unless by taking from her one protector. That is nothing,
unless, in the same moment which gives him to the
soldiers of Edacer, I can secure her person. I must
think on that. There would be no hope to win her by
persuasion, if she dreamed that I had part in the sacrifice
of her father. I must keep her from that knowledge—from
that thought.”

This latter suggestion, as it exhibited a new form of
difficulty in his progress, produced a farther pause in his
speech, which he gave up to meditation. The result of
his deliberation was soon shown in his uttered musings.
He resolved that Melchior should not yet be given up
to the fierce Edacer. It would be time enough, he
thought, for his sacrifice, which he yet resolved upon,
when he should either have entirely succeeded with
Thyrza, or when he had discovered that success with
her, during her father's life, would be hopeless. His

plans were soon fixed and finished in his mind; and,
towards evening, he proceeded to the lodgings of the
dissolute Edacer.