o am I; still, to see you once more, I have been only to glad
to shorten my night's rest considerably."

"But, how did you know?"

"You yourself told me yesterday at what time you were allowed to leave
the temple."

"Did I tell you? Great Serapis! how light it is already. I shall be
punished if the water-jar is not standing on the altar by sunrise, and
there is Klea's too to be filled."

"I will fill it for you directly--there--that is done; and now I will
carry them both for you to the end of the grove, if you will promise me
to return soon, for I have many things to ask you."

"Go on--only go on," said the girl; "I know very little; but ask away,
though you will not find much to be made of any answers that I can give."

"Oh! yes, indeed, I shall--for instance, if I asked you to tell me all
about your parents. My friend Publius, whom you know, and I also have
heard how cruelly and unjustly they were punished, and we would gladly do
much to procure their release."

"I will come--I will be sure to come," cried Irene loudly and eagerly,
"and shall I bring Klea with me? She was called up in the middle of the
night by the gatekeeper, whose child is very ill. My sister is very fond
of it, and Philo will only take his medicine from her. The little one had
gone to sleep in her lap, and his mother came and begged me to fetch the
water for us both. Now give me the jars, for none but we may enter the
temple."

"There they are. Do not disturb your sister on my account in her care of
the poor little boy, for I might indeed have one or two things to say to
you which she need not hear, and which might give you pleasure. Now, I am
going back to the well, so farewell! But do not let me have to wait very
long for you." He spoke in a tender tone of entreaty, and the girl
answered low and rapidly as she hurried away from him:

"I will come when the sun is up."

The Corinthian looked after her till she had vanished within the temple,
and his heart was stirred--stirred as it had not been for many years. He
could not help recalling the time when he would teaze his younger sister,
then still quite a child, putting her to the test by asking her, with a
perfectly grave face, to give him her cake or her apple which he did not
really want at all. The little one had almost always put the thing he
asked for to his mouth with her tiny hands, and then he had often felt
exactly as he felt now.

Irene too was still but a child, and no less