Darkness and silence crept through the prison-house of Tangiers. Darkness, which spread terror through the heart of many a poor, helpless criminal; silence, that fell with heavy, crushing weight on the convicts who knew that when on the morrow that stillness was broken, and the city should be roused again, they would be led forth to die the felon’s shameful death, in presence of the jeering multitude.

In a cell separate from the rest, slept one who had on the morning of that day awakened in freedom, the joy and comfort of her old father’s home. Rude hands had forced her to this dreary place, and left her as a criminal, secured by bolts and bars. And she slept. Yes, though she knew the rigor with which punishment was visited on the transgressor, guilty of the sin laid to her charge. Yes, though her old father were alone in their beautiful home; yes, though the damp, cold stones were all the couch spread beneath her dainty form!

Look upon the youthful captive as she slumbers so peacefully. There are traces of tears upon her cheeks, though her lip wears a gay smile. Then she had wept before she slept? Ay, for thoughts of the sorrow and fear which she knew harassed the beloved ones at home, troubled her; but now she smiled, for the good spirits reigning in dream-land, had assured her of a future full of bliss. How beautiful is Myrrah in her sleep. The large and languid eyes which fascinated the gazer as they turned upon him, are hid, and you will not therefore be dazzled as you look on the clear and beautiful olive complexion, the sweetness of expression, and the regularity of the features; the delicate bloom of the round cheek; the heavy mass of black and shining hair; the slight, girlish form, these, and the unmistakable evidences of youth, would increase the interest of a stranger, and make us, who have aforetime made her acquaintance, gaze with an increase of sorrow on the young creature who is accused of a crime punishable with death.

The malice of a bitter enemy had brought the Jewess to that doleful situation. Orien Fez, the rich son of a rich Mahommedan, had persecuted her with the most unwelcome attentions, despite the contempt in which her people were held by his own. He would fain make her his wife, for his love was so strong as to overcome all prejudice, and in a land far distant from their own, he would have joyed to convince her happiness would await them. In that blessed clime her God should be the only object of his worship; he would suffer himself to be despised of all men, if she would in return only bless him with the assurance of her love.

But Myrrah heard all the youth’s protestations with an uninterested ear. There was no love in her heart for the descendant of a race which ever delighted in oppressing the descendants of Abraham. And for Orien, the Moor, her heart had no predilection. He was a handsome youth, to be sure, and the son of a man who stood high among his people; and it was a mystery to himself, how he should love so passionately the daughter of the Jew. And it seemed no less strange and unnatural to the young girl, when she remembered the great and never-disguised contempt and aversion with which her people were regarded by the followers of Mahomet.

Orien could boast of but little acquaintance with Myrrah; his love had not been aroused by her virtues, or a knowledge of her surpassing excellence of heart and disposition; her exceeding beauty was the great attraction, which he could not withstand.

Many times chance had thrown the girl for a moment in his way, and the Moor had never failed to take the advantage of such moments to whisper words of ardent love, to which any reply was very seldom deigned. This silence and affectation of scorn, as he thought it, but increased the passion of the lover—his nature delighted in overcoming obstacles, and his determination was only strengthened by the cold reserve and dignity of Myrrah.

One night, as she was passing along the street in that quiet quarter of the city where her people lived, Orien, who had wandered there in the hope of catching but a glimpse of her face or person, appeared suddenly by her side.

“I have something to say to thee,” he exclaimed, abruptly; “thou knowest my name.”

“Yes, thou art son of the great Mazarin Fez—what dost thou here to-night?”

“To tell thee this. For a twelvemonth thou hast been more than sunlight to me. I have lived in shade and gloom, only when thou chanced to be near me. Listen now; I pray thee haste not so quickly. I am willing, ready, even this very night, if thou will it, to renounce my people, my station, my God, for thee! The shame and dishonor that is heaped upon the Jew, I am ready, glad to take upon myself if thou—”

“Nay, stop,” said Myrrah, indignantly pausing, and looking her suitor in the face, “there is no stain upon my people for thee to take upon thyself. The shame and the dishonor which crushes them belong to thy people who impose it. There is no love in the hearts of the daughters of Judah for the oppressors of their fathers.”

“Forgive me,” was the humble answer, “teach me words that I may plead my love without offending thee; be mine, Myrrah, and we will hasten to seek out a home where the cruel injustice of my fathers cannot visit yours. Be my wife, I will prove thy willing, humble slave forever!”

“Thou art speaking madly, Orien Fez. I tell thee I have fear of thee! Are thy people wont to become the slaves of mine? I love thee not.”

“Yes, I will bear even this, any thing from thee, if thou wilt only love me. I will deck thee with jewels that shall make thee look a queen; there shall be none preferred before thee. Would it not be joy to dwell where man has no power to crush, where thy place might be among the most honored of the earth? Oh, there are lands fairer than ours, more beautiful, more blessed, where the flowers of love wave forever in eternal sunshine of bliss—wilt thou not seek that land with me?”

“I have heard thee out, and thou talkest but foolishness! I doubt thy truth. And even were I well assured of that, dost thou think there are not ties binding me here dearer than thou canst even conceive, with all thy professions of love? Go, thou hast madly deceived thyself; mayest thou have a speedy awakening, Orien Fez, for I will not listen again to such words as thou hast uttered to-night.”

They had reached her home, and Myrrah had disappeared within the heavy doors, which opened as by magic at her approach, ere her last words were fully uttered.

Stung with madness at this peremptory dismissal of his suit, and the scornful tone the Jewess had used to him who had so humbled himself before her, Orien turned in a rage away from the house, and slowly retraced his steps. There was something frightful in the calmness of his mien, and in the glittering of his bright eyes; he knew then that the daughter of that most despised of all people, would never give him a hearing again; that she despised his offer, even his, the proud and wealthy and powerful Orien. Ha! she should at least be brought to her senses—he would assure her whose were the words she had so lightly set at naught. So, to his rest he went, to dream of the sweet voice which haunted him incessantly, to think upon her marvelous beauty, which to his eye never seemed even so perfect, as when she turned toward him, and so proudly and indignantly repelled the pleadings of his love.

To the embraces of affection which more than satisfied her brave heart, Myrrah went from the presence of Orien Fez. But she did not make known to the beloved ones awaiting her there, the persecuting attentions of the Moor; she was confident in her own power to repel his advances, and dreaded awaking anxious thoughts for her in her old father. And Othniel, she knew his fiery spirit, how his indignation would kindle into a rash flame against the man who, belonging to the host of oppressors, should dare sue for the love of his beloved; therefore she spoke not to him of the Moor.

A happy group was that gathered under old Raguel’s roof. The father, who cherished with unmeasured affection the only child which the dreadful pestilence had spared to him; Othniel, the traveler, the betrothed of the maiden, who was to the old man’s heart already a cherished son. He had come back from a long wandering in the East, to claim of the father his child, for early in their youth the two had vowed to love one another; and as time passed on, it saw them cherishing no regret for their childish vows. As he approached the years of manhood, a desire to see the wonders of the East had seized upon Othniel, and for a few years he had traveled through all the Holy Land, in Egypt, and over the deserts, until at last wearied and longing for the embrace and the presence of those left behind, he had hastened to the dearly remembered old town on the shore of the blue sea. Since his return, his home had been made with Raguel and Myrrah; and the day was speedily approaching when the children of the old man’s heart were to be made one. But the sunshine of that home had been wanting without the cheerful voice, the songs, the smiles of Myrrah—her presence was the crowning joy that gave to all the others worth.

And, lo! that hope of the old man’s heart, that blessing of young Othniel sleeps this night in a prison, and armed men are keeping guard about her cell! Look, now within the maiden’s home.

The gray-haired father, whose face bears heavy marks of age and sickness, lies smitten with sore anguish upon his couch; his heavy moans are sad to hear, for no light sorrow had brought tears to his eyes, or wrung from him words of complaint. Pacing to and fro through the beautiful chamber is the despairing lover of the maiden. He, too, has wept, but his tears are wiped away now, and anger and hopeless grief are written on his countenance. It would seem that Othniel’s rich and striking apparel had been assumed in mockery of his own agony—but it was not so. Hope and joy were never before so bright in his heart, as on that morning, when he donned the embroidered robes, and arrayed himself for the bridal. Yes, for the bridal! Myrrah and Othniel were on that day to have been made one.

See, now, as he moves so madly through the room, his garments have become entangled in the chords of Myrrah’s harp; hear the soft, sighing sound that escapes from the instrument, as in a moment, calmed and subdued, the youth bends down to disengage his robe; that breath of music causes the father’s tears to flow afresh, and Othniel, again unmanned, flings himself upon the door, and gives way to the uncontrollable grief.

In another chamber is prepared the wedding-feast; a rich banquet, “fit for the gods,” served up in costliest style, awaiting the bidden guests, and the happy bride and bridegroom.

Above, in her own apartment, where Myrrah arrayed herself on that morn so full of hope, is a profusion of the choice and rich appareling with which the daughters of wealth are wont to array themselves. Jewels, and beautiful array, the proudest might covet, left in wild confusion, show that the mistress of all that splendor had gone forth in haste, alas! not to the altar, as she had dreamed! for the bridal train had proceeded but a little way toward the synagogue, where the priest awaited them, when Myrrah was suddenly arrested in the name of the public authorities, on charge of having proved traitor to a solemn oath which she had taken, and the dismayed party, instead of proceeding to the place of worship, was hurried, with little ceremony, before the cadi.

One was there in presence of the man of power, only too ready with his false accusation. Orien Fez, discovering that there was in the person of a preferred lover, an impassable barrier to the accomplishment of his hopes, had conceived in his base heart a fiendish plan by which he might avenge himself, and this was its first betrayal. That very morning the charge had been made, to which he had solemnly sworn, to this effect, that Myrrah, daughter of the Jew Raguel, had to him, and in hearing of his witnesses, declared her firm and unalterable belief in Mahommedanism—had, with her own lips, declared faith in the abominable creed, “there is no God but God, and Mahomet is his prophet.” That since that time she had proved false to her vow, having returned to the worship of the God of the Jews—a transgression which the laws of the land held to be punishable with death.

On being asked if she had any reply to make to this statement, the astonished prisoner, striving to quiet her indignation, simply stated that the accusation was altogether false—that she had never, on any occasion, professed faith, either by thought, or word, or deed, in other religion than that which her people had unwaveringly held for so many years; further words than this statement prudence prevented her speaking.

There was a vast difference in the social position of the accuser and accused, which augured not well for the state of feeling with which this cause would be judged. Orien Fez was a representative of the higher class of Moors, and, as has been stated, wealthy and influential. The prisoner was the daughter of a despised race—rich, also, it is true; but even the wealth of her parent increased the professed contempt and enmity with which he was regarded by the oppressors—for riches possessed by any of his scorned and hated brethren was invariably attributed to other than honest means of acquirement.

An unprejudiced eye had seen, in the appearance of Orien, the craft and subtlety of the Evil One; had seen in that glittering eye, and the triumphant smile, other cause for the accusation which he had made, than merely an honest desire that the honor of his religion and its professors should be kept bright. In the young Jewess, on the contrary, was a look of conscious innocence, a brave indignation, which of themselves had proved her guiltless of the sin attributed to her. But the cadi was not prepared to find blamelessness in a Jew, when a Moor was the accuser, though his shrewdness had more than half penetrated to the truth of the matter already, therefore he said,

“This case demands the most serious attention; it is no light thing to condemn one to death, but neither must the guilty go free. The matter shall be referred to the pasha—we will care for thy daughter, Jew; she shall be safely kept for trial on another day. When thou art notified, accuser, Orien Fez, and ye, his witnesses, appear without delay before the pasha, on pain of severe and rigorous punishment.”

It was thus that Myrrah was imprisoned—thus that the diabolical Moor sought his revenge.

——