eard of keeping them? And
Orestes was drunk, too. But he said that I might teach a Goth to be what
I liked, except a liar.... Was not that a strange speech?.... And Wulf
bade him be strong, and blest him for it.'

'He was right,' sobbed Philammon.

'Then I thought he would love me for obeying him, though I loathed
it!--Oh, God, how I loathed it!.... But how could I fancy that he did
not like my doing it? Who ever heard of any one doing of their own will
what they did not like?'

Philammon sobbed again, as the poor civilised savage artlessly opened to
him all her moral darkness. What could he say?.... he knew what to say.
The disease was so utterly patent, that any of Cyril's school-children
could have supplied the remedy. But how to speak it?--how to tell her,
before all things, as he longed to do, that there was no hope of her
marrying the Amal, and, therefore, no peace for her till she left him.

'Then you did hate the--the--' said he, at last, catching at some gleam
of light.

'Hate it? Do I not belong, body and soul, to him?--him only?.... And
yet.... Oh, I must tell you all! When I and the girls began to
practise, all the old feelings came back--the love of being admired, and
applauded, and cheered; and dancing is so delicious!--so delicious to
feel that you are doing anything beautiful perfectly, and better than
every one else!.... And he saw that I liked it, and despised me for
it.... And, deceitful!--he little guessed how much of the pains which
I took were taken to please him, to do my best before him, to win
admiration, only that I might take it home and throw it all at his
beloved feet, and make the world say once more, "She has all Alexandria
to worship her, and yet she cares for that one Goth more than for--" But
he deceived me, true man that he is! He wished to enjoy my smiles to
the last moment, and then to cast me off, when I had once given him an
excuse.... Too cowardly to upbraid me, he let me ruin myself, to save
him the trouble of ruining me. Oh, men, men! all alike! They love us for
their own sakes, and we love them for love's sake. We live by love, we
die for love, and yet we never find it, but only selfishness dressed
up in love's mask.... And then we take up with that, poor, fond,
self-blinded creatures that we are!--and in spite of the poisoned hearts
around us, persuade ourselves that our latest asp's egg, at least, will
hatch into a dove, and that though all men are faithless, our own tyr