The Knight of Leon by Sylvanus Cobb Jr.

DAYS had been passing away, and a week elapsed since Zehra was arrested in her flight and brought back to the house of Ben Hamed. She had been sick--very sick, and at times she had almost lost herself in the delirium of her misery and disappointment. It was well for the maiden that she had seen one whom she had really loved, or her own hand might have put a stop to the tide of earthly affairs; but the love that had been kindled in her bosom had left a spark of light, so the darkness was not so utter as before. That generous spark gave her life, and while all else of earth was gloomy and unpromising, she could turn to that and feel that even for her there might be somewhat of joy--joy in memory if in nothing else. She had loved, and she had been loved in return. Her heart had entered upon its gentle mission, the flood of higher soul's affections had richly blossomed in her though they might now be crushed through tyranny, yet they shed a fragrance of grief and her sorrow was as deep as before, but not deeper; her misery was as much, but not so keen; she had a joy mingled in her life-cup.

Ben Hamed entered her room and ordered the attendant to withdraw. He was still weak from the effects of the wounds he had received at the hands of the Christian knight, and his countenance showed that he had endured much suffering.