ill weeping,
and easily succeeded in leading the motherless maiden to make a frank
confession.

Both cousins had been dear to her from childhood; but while Myrtilus,
though often impeded by his pitiable sufferings, had reached by a smooth
pathway the highest recognition, Hermon's impetuous toiling and striving
had constantly compelled her to watch his course with anxious solicitude
and, often unobserved, extend a helping hand.

Sympathy, disapproval, and fear, which, however, was always blended with
admiration of his transcendent powers, had merged into love. Though he
had disdained to return it, it had nevertheless been perfectly evident
that he needed her, and valued her and her opinion. Often as their views
differed, the obstinate boy and youth had never allowed any one except
herself a strong influence over his acts and conduct. But, far as he
seemed to wander from the paths which she believed the right ones,
she had always held fast to the conviction that he was a man of noble
nature, and an artist who, if he only once fixed his eyes upon the
true goal, would far surpass by his mighty power the other Alexandrian
sculptors, whatever names they bore, and perhaps even Myrtilus.

To the great vexation of her father who, after her mother's death, in
an hour when his heart was softened, had promised that he would never
impose any constraint upon her in the choice of a husband, she had
hitherto rejected every suitor. She had showed even the distinguished
Philotas in Pelusium, without the least reserve, that he was seeking her
in vain; for just at that time she thought she had perceived that
Hermon returned her love, and after his abrupt departure it had become
perfectly evident that the happiness of her life depended upon him.

The terrible misfortune which had now befallen him had only bound her
more firmly to the man she loved. She felt that she belonged to him
indissolubly, and the leech's positive assurance that his blindness
was incurable had only increased the magic of the thought of being and
affording tenfold more to the man bereft of sight than when, possessing
his vision, the world, life, and art belonged to him. To be able to
lavish everything upon the most beloved of mortals, and do whatever her
warm, ever-helpful heart prompted, seemed to her a special favour of the
gods in whom she believed.

That it was Demeter, to the ranks of whose priestesses she belonged, who
was so closely associated with his blin