tle fish of which the returned wanderer was so fond.

But the old woman's struggle between the duty that kept her near the
fire and the love that drew her away from it was not of long duration.
In a few minutes Melissa, her hands clasping the slave's withered arm,
was listening to the tender words of welcome that Dido had ready for
her. The slave woman declared that she scarcely dared to let her eyes
rest upon her mistress, much less touch her with the fingers that had
just been cleaning fish; for the girl was dressed as grandly as the
daughter of the high-priest. Melissa laughed at this; but the slave went
on to say that they had not been able to detain her master. His longing
to see his daughter and the desire to speak with Caesar had driven him
out of the house, and Alexander had, of course, accompanied him. Only
Philip, poor, crushed worm, was at home, and the sight of her would put
more strength into him than the strong soup and the old wine which his
father had fetched for him from the store-room, although he generally
reserved it for libations on her mother's grave.

Melissa soon stood beside her brother's couch, and the sight of him cast
a dark shadow over the brightness of this happy morn. As he recognized
her, a fleeting smile crossed the pale, spiritualized face, which seemed
to her to have grown ten years older in this short time; but it vanished
as quickly as it had come. Then the great eyes gazed blankly again from
the shadows that surrounded them, and a spasm of pain quivered from
time to time round the thin, tightly closed lips. Melissa could hardly
restrain her tears. Was this what he had been brought to-the youth who
only a few days ago had made them all feel conscious of the superiority
of his brilliant mind!

Her warm heart made her feel more lovingly toward her sick brother than
she had ever done when he was in health, and surely he was conscious of
the tenderness with which she strove to comfort him.

The unaccustomed, hard, and degrading work at the oars, she assured him,
would have worn out a stronger man than he; but he would soon be able to
visit the Museum again and argue as bravely as ever. With this, she bent
over him to kiss his brow, but he raised himself a little, and said,
with a contemptuous smile:

"Apathy--ataraxy--complete indifference--is the highest aim after which
the soul of the skeptic strives. That at least"--and here his eyes
flashed for a moment--"I have attained to in th