A garden-house, surrounded by
an enclosure of roses run wild, lies in the midst of a grove of
myrtle and bay trees. This was Lady Hester's favourite resort
during her lifetime; and now, within its silent enclosure,
"After life's fitful fever she sleeps well."
The hand of ruin has dealt very sparingly with all these
interesting relics; the Pasha's power by day, and the fear of
spirits by night, keep off marauders; and though we made free with
broken benches and fallen doorposts for fuel, we reverently
abstained from displacing anything in the establishment except a
few roses, which there was no living thing but bees and
nightingales to regret. It was one of the most striking and
interesting spots I ever witnessed: its silence and beauty, its
richness and desolation, lent to it a touching and mysterious
character, that suited well the memory of that strange hermit-lady
who has made it a place of pilgrimage, even in Palestine. {49}
The Pasha of Sidon presented Lady Hester with the deserted convent
of Mar Elias on her arrival in his country, and this she soon
converted into a fortress, garrisoned by a band of Albanians: her
only attendants besides were her doctor, her secretary, and some
female slaves.
