A jar of pink roses upon a tiny table seemed to gain an extra delicacy of colour from the sombre curtains behind. Occasionally the flames would bend, twist and writhe crazily as the punka-boy bestirred himself. Winds returned, the gardens withered, and roses would not bloom. " "A word," cried the boy, as the janizary was preparing to obey his master's orders. A time may come,—and that ere long,—when you will be glad to purchase my secrets, and your own safety, at a dearer price than the heads of your companions. The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination. But she did not believe he would do that.
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