r,
simply answer 'Yes' by my messenger, to relieve me from torturing
uncertainty. If you do not--which God forefend for both our sakes, Nilus
shall this very day carry to you all that belongs to you. But, if you
have read these lines, I will make my appearance to-morrow, at two hours
after noon, with Nilus to explain to the others the arrangement of which
I have spoken. God be with you and infuse some ruth into your proud and
noble soul!"

Paula drew a deep breath as the hand holding this momentous epistle
dropped by her side; she stood for some time by the window, lost in grave
meditation. Then calling Pulcheria, she begged her to tend her patient,
too, for a short time. The girl looked up at her with rapt admiration in
her clear eyes, and asked sympathetically why she was so pale; Paula
kissed her lips and eyes, and saying affectionately: "Good, happy child!"
she retired to her own room on the opposite side of the house. There she
once more read through the letter.

Oh yes; this was Orion as she had known him after his return till the
evening of that never-to-be-forgotten water-party. He was, indeed, a
poet; nature herself had made it so easy to him to seduce unguarded souls
into a belief in him! And yet no! This letter was honestly meant.
Philippus knew men well; Orion really had a heart, a warm heart. Not the
most reckless of criminals could mock at the curse hurled at him by a
beloved father in his last moments. And, as she once more read the
sentence in which he told her that it was his crime as an unjust judge
towards her that had turned the dying man's blessing to a curse, she
shuddered and reflected that their relative attitude was now reversed,
and that he had suffered more and worse through her than she had through
him. His pale face, as she had seen it in the Necropolis, came back
vividly to her mind, and if he could have stood before her at this moment
she would have flown to him, have offered him a compassionate hand, and
have assured him that the woes she had brought upon him filled her with
the deepest and sincerest pity.

That morning she had asked the Masdakite whether he had besought Heaven
to grant him a speedy recovery, and the man replied that Persians never
prayed for any particular blessing, but only for "that which was good;"
for that none but the Omnipotent knew what was good for mortals. How
wise! For in this instance might not the most terrible blow that could
fall on a son--his father's c