ed.

Muffled almost to the eyes, she glided forward, and the voice that
addressed him was soft and musical.

"May the gods favour you, my lord! even as they have favoured me in
permitting a sight of your improved health."

"You have been here often," began Sergius, "and I wished to see you and
bid you bear my thanks to her who sent you."

Slowly the stole dropped from the eyes--very pretty eyes, that, joined
with an equally pretty mouth, took on an expression of hurt
astonishment.

"That _sent_ me?" she murmured, half sadly. "Ah, well; doubtless it is
a matter of insolence for a poor slave girl to wish and ask concerning
the health of the noble Sergius."

The tribune watched her closely and with mingled feelings. He had
settled in his mind, from the moment of Agathocles' mention of the
fact, that the slave woman who called must be sent by Marcia, and it
was not without a pang of very poignant regret that he relinquished the
idea. That he could not place this girl--one of a class so far beneath
the notice of a Roman of rank--was not strange, and yet the face seemed
vaguely familiar to him, and--it was certainly little short of
beautiful. A man flouted, or, still worse, ignored by a mistress at
whose shrine he has worshipped, might well be pardoned a feeling of
satisfaction that his well-being was a matter of interest to at least
one pretty woman.

Meanwhile the girl stood before him, her arms hanging by her sides, her
eyes modestly cast down, and her whole attitude indicative of detected
audacity and submissive despair. Agathocles had transferred his
attention from his patient to the visitor, and his scrutiny seemed to
trouble her.

"So it was yourself alone who desired to learn of my welfare," said
Sergius, with a faint smile. "Believe me, my girl, no Roman is too
noble to value the interest of beauty like yours."

There was just the suspicion of a laugh in the downcast eyes, but it
sped away as swiftly as it came, and she made haste to answer:--

"Truly, my lord does not measure his own worth. There are many, as
much above me in beauty as they are in rank; many who cannot venture to
show the concern they doubtless feel. What has a poor slave girl to do
with maidenly modesty--the plaything of any master who chooses to smile
upon her for a moment?"

She spoke bitterly, and Sergius, half frowning, half smiling, reached
out his hand. The contrast between this girl's frankly spoken interest
and the c