se happy times
she had hardened herself against the world--the cold, selfish world made
her so. But a nature with true instinctive love cannot long remain in
such a state when conditions change; and now Saronia was coming to her
former self, removed from the world and surrounded by those who really
loved her. Her heart softened, and she felt a keen affection for Lucius.

There were but two men in the teeming millions of the world she cared
for; of those two, one had been passively kind, the other an active
friend. The latter was Chios, of whom she dared not think. No, she could
not even breathe a sigh o'er the remembrances of him, for fear a
smouldering dead past might break into a living flame. All this she
knew--knew it now when she had passed from death to life, when the night
had fled and the day dawned; so she conjured up a mighty gulf between
her and the Greek, a gulf over which she would not pass, neither could
he come unto her. But of Lucius she felt no fear, and this is the
distinction between friendship and love.

Lucius was to visit the Temple of Diana to render thanks for her
protecting grace to him whilst he had been battling with many storms;
and his mariners had promised a votive offering to the goddess when the
winds whistled through the cordage and the waves tossed their ship until
it reeled and staggered like a drunken man. And now they came to fulfil
their vows. This was not a vain show. Those sons of the ocean had warm
hearts, and would lay them there before the shrine. Neither did Lucius
desire pomp or show; he would come with his men and worship simply,
manly. So, when the sun was low and the winds were hushed, they drew
nigh and bowed before the altar, and, offering their libations,
whispered forth their prayers. Around the flower-strewn altar stood the
priests and priestesses. The chanting songs went upward in deep sonorous
rhythm, and as the sacred hymn died out in echoes through the columned
sanctuary, the toilers of the sea bent low and sang:

Thanks to Thee, O Lady Saviour.
Thanks to Thee, O great Dispenser.
Mercy have, and keep us lowly
In the hollow of Thine hand.
Hail! O hail! Thou mighty Mother.
Hail! Thou Giver of all good.
Mercy have and keep us lowly,
Ever bring us safe to Thee.

Then in deep unison priests and mariners joined in one grand anthem of
thanksgiving, and cheeks were wet with the tears of men whose sinews
were like iron, and whose hear