and she was turning to the door, as light
and gay as if she had happily done some difficult task, when the curtain
screening off the library of archives was lifted, and a man came out
calling her by name. She turned round; but as soon as she saw that he was
a Roman, and, as his white toga told her, of the upper class, she took
fright. She hastily exclaimed that she was in a hurry, and flew down the
steps, through the garden, and into the road. Once there, she reproached
herself for foolish shyness of a stranger who was scarcely younger than
her own father; but by the time she had gone a few steps she had
forgotten the incident, and was rehearsing in her mind all she had to
tell Heron. She soon saw the tops of the palms and sycamores in their own
garden, her faithful old dog Melas barked with delight, and the happiness
which the meeting with the stranger had for a moment interrupted revived
with unchecked glow.

She was weary, and where could she rest so well as at home? She had
escaped many perils, and where could she feel so safe as under her
father's roof? Glad as she was at the prospect of her new and handsome
home on the other side of the lake, and of all the delights promised her
by Diodoros's affection, her heart still clung fondly to the pretty, neat
little dwelling whose low roof now gleamed in front of her. In the
garden, whose shell-strewn paths she now trod, she had played as a child;
that window belonged to the room where her mother had died. And then,
coming home was in itself a joy, when she had so much to tell that was
pleasant.

The dog leaped along by her side with vehement affection, jumping round
her and on her, and she heard the starling's cry, first "Olympias!" and
then "My strength!"

A happy smile parted her rosy lips as she glanced at the work-room; but
the two white teeth which always gleamed when she was gay were presently
hidden, for her father, it would seem, was out. He was certainly not at
work, for the wide window was unscreened, and it was now nearly noon. He
was almost always within at this hour, and it would spoil half her
gladness not to find him there.

But what was this? What could this mean? The dog had announced her
approach, and old Dido's gray head peeped out of the house-door, to
vanish again at once. How strangely she had looked at her--exactly as she
had looked that day when the physician had told the faithful creature
that her mistress's last hour was at hand!

Melissa'