ted."

"I see a boat put off from the shore," said Evadne, "and it seems to
turn its prow hitherward."

But it soon was concealed by the woody hill-top, although its course was
seen to be directed towards the ruined huts upon the shore. Not long
after, the children heard the name of "Evadne," brought faintly by the
echoes, like the words of unseen ghosts who strive to awaken some
beloved sleeper unconscious of their presence.

Evadne feared to return, and dared not stay. For the first time, the
voice of her foster-father failed to bring her obedient footsteps; for
her fluttering heart suspected something strange and unwelcome awaiting
her. She wept at parting from Hylas, and the boy detained her. He also
seemed troubled.

"Dear little one," he said, "betray me not! These men of Athos have seen
me, and have authority to bring me bound before some ruler who has
entered their town. They come to look for me now. I fly to my
hiding-place, and you will deny that you saw any one in this forest."

He was gone down the face of the cliff, with winged feet, light of tread
as Jove's messenger. More slowly, Evadne retraced the downward path, and
lingered on the banks of the ravine, where the bitter waters were
sobbing among the rocks. She lay down upon the ground, and dreamed,
while yet waking, of her home in Thessaly, of her unknown father in the
Christian city of Thyatira, and of Hylas, ever Hylas, and the pain of
parting. How long she hid herself she guessed not, until the sun at the
zenith sent down his brightest beam to discover the lost Thessalian
lamb. Then, subdued and despairing, she travelled on to meet the
reproaches that could not fail to await her.

CHAPTER V.

At midnight the sleepless girl stole from her couch, and laid on the
altar beyond the village heavy clusters of grapes and the richest fruits
from her store of dainties. "Hylas!" she softly cried, and the
sleepless echo repeated the name; but though she watched long, no form
emerged from the forest. Timidly she flitted back to her dwelling, and
waited for an eastern gleam. At last the veil of night was lifted a
little, a wind ruffled the waves, and the swaying oaks repeated to the
hills the message of coming splendors from the Orient. Evadne gladly saw
that the stars were fewer and paler in the sky, and she walked forth
again, brushing cold dews from the vines and the branches. A foreboding
fear led her first to look at the altar where she had left her