not pine in confinement and seclusion; she should find
and give happiness, to her own joy and that of all good souls, and unfold
to a full and perfect flower. And Eudoxia knew the widow well; she knew
that Joanna would by-and-bye understand why she helped the child to
escape the greatest peril that can hang over a human soul: that of living
in perpetual conflict with itself in the effort to become something
totally different from what, by natural gifts and inclinations, it is
intended to be.

With a sigh of anguish Eudoxia reflected what she herself, forced by
cruel fate and lacking freedom and pleasurable ease, had become, from an
ardent and generous young creature; and she, the narrow-hearted teacher,
could make allowances for the strange, adventurous yearning of a child,
where a larger souled woman might have derided, and blamed and repressed
it.

When it was daylight Eudoxia fulfilled the offices she commonly left to
the maid: she arranged Mary's hair, talking to her and listening the
while, as though in this night the child had developed into a woman. Then
she went into the garden with her, and hardly let her out of her sight.

At breakfast Joanna and Pulcheria wondered at her singular behavior, but
it did not displease them, and Marv was radiant with contentment.

The widow made no objection to allowing the child to go into the city to
execute her uncle's mysterious commission. Rustem was with her; and
whatever it was that made the child so happy must certainly be right and
unobjectionable. Orion's maps and lists were sent to the prison early in
the day, and before the child set out with her stalwart escort Gibbus had
returned with the prisoner's letter to the Arab governor.

On their way it was agreed that Mary should join Rustem at dusk at the
riverside inn of Nesptah. In these clays of famine and death beasts of
burthen of every description were easily procurable, as well as
attendants and guides; and the Masdakite, who was experienced in such
matters, thought it best to purchase none but swift dromedaries and to
carry only a light tent for the "little mistress!"

At the door of Gamaliel's shop Mary bid him wait; the jovial goldsmith
welcomed her with genuine pleasure. . . .

What had befallen the house of the Mukaukas! Fire had destroyed the
dwelling-place of justice, like the Egyptian cities to whom the prophet
had announced a similar fate a thousand years since.

Gamaliel knew in what peril Orion st