y for she drew up her shoulders, and
her fair features were stamped with an expression of keen suffering, and
she pressed both hands over her heart as she went on past the screen and
her handsome flirting playfellow, limping across the courtyard and into
the road.

What tortured the poor child so cruelly? The poverty of her house, and
her bodily pain, which increased at every step, or her numbed and sore
heart, betrayed of her newly-blossoming, last, and fairest hope?

CHAPTER XVI.

Usually when Selene went out walking, many people looked at her with
admiration, but to-day a couple of street-boys composed her escort.
They ran after her calling out impudently, 'dot, and go one,' and tried
ruthlessly to snatch at the loosely-tied sandal on her injured foot,
which tapped the pavement at every step. While Selene was thus making
her way with cruel pain, satisfaction and happiness had visited Arsinoe;
for hardly had Selene and Antinous quitted her father's apartments, when
Hiram begged her to show him the little bottle which the handsome youth
had just given her. The dealer turned it over and over in the sunlight,
tested its ring, tried to scratch it with the stone in his ring, and
then muttered, "Vasa Murrhma."

The words did not escape the girl's sharp ears, and she had heard her
father say that the costliest of all the ornamental vessels with which
the wealthy Romans were wont to decorate their reception-rooms, were
those called Vasa Murrhina; so she explained to him at once, that she
knew what high prices were paid for such vases, and that she had no mind
to sell it cheaply. He began to bid, she laughingly demanded ten times
the price, and after a long battle between the dealer and the owner,
fought now half in jest, and now in grave earnest, the Phoenician said:

"Two thousand drachmae; not a sesterce more. That is not enough by a
long way, but then it is yours."

"I would hardly have given half to a less fair customer."

"And I only let you have it because you are such a polite man."

"I will send you the money before sundown."

At these words the girl, who had been radiant with surprise and delight,
and who would have liked to throw her arms round the bald-headed
merchant's neck, or round that of her old slave, who was even less
attractive, or for that matter, would have embraced the world--the
triumphant girl became thoughtful; her father would certainly come
home ere long, and she could not conceal fr