mind, and I can see for myself that you act as kindly as you
speak. The gods no doubt are good to you!"

"God is for each and all."

"What!" exclaimed Selene with flashing eyes. "For those whose every
pleasure they destroy? For the home of eight children whom they rob of
their mother? For the poor whom they daily threaten to deprive of their
bread-winner?"

"For them too, there is a merciful God," interrupted dame Hannah who had
just come into the room. "I will lead you to the loving Father in Heaven
who cares for us all as if we were His children; but not now--you must
rest and neither talk nor hear of anything that can excite your fevered
blood. Now I will rearrange the pillow under your head. Mary will wet a
fresh compress and then you must try to sleep."

"I cannot," replied Selene, while Hannah shook her pillows and arranged
them carefully. "Tell me about your God who loves us."

"By-and-bye, dear child. Seek Him and you will find Him, for of all His
children He loves them best who suffer."

"Those who suffer?" asked Selene, in surprise. "What has a God in his
Olympian joys to do with those who suffer?"

"Be quiet, child," interrupted Hannah, patting the sick girl with a
soothing hand, "you soon will learn how God takes care of you and that
Another loves you."

"Another," muttered Selene, and her cheeks turned crimson.

She thought at once of Pollux, and asked herself why the story of her
sufferings should have moved him so deeply if he were not in love with
her. Then she began to seek some colorable ground for what she had heard
as she went past the screen behind which he had been working. He had
never told her plainly that he loved her. Why should he, an artist and a
bright, high spirited young fellow, not be allowed to jest with a pretty
girl, even if his heart belonged to another. No, she was not indifferent
to him: that she had felt that night when she had stood as his model,
and now--as she thought--I could guess, nay, feel sure of, from Mary's
story.

The longer she thought of him, the more she began to long to see him
whom she had loved so dearly even as a child. Her heart had never yet
beat for any other man, but since she had met Pollux again in the hall
of the Muses, his image had filled her whole soul, and what she now felt
must be love--could be nothing else. Half awake, but half asleep, she
pictured him to herself, entering this quiet room, sitting down by the
head of her couch, and lookin