been proud of his devotion to
his calling, of his duties as Mohar; and now he had discovered that the
king, whose chain of honor hung round his neck, undervalued him, and
perhaps only suffered him to fill his arduous and dangerous post for the
sake of his father, while he, notwithstanding the temptations
offered him in Thebes by his wealth, had accepted it willingly and
disinterestedly. He knew that his skill with the pen was small, but that
was no reason why he should be despised; often had he wished that he
could reconstitute his office exactly as Ani had suggested, but his
petition to be allowed a secretary had been rejected by Rameses. What
he spied out, he was told was to be kept secret, and no one could be
responsible for the secrecy of another.

As his brother Horus grew up, he had followed him as his obedient
assistant, even after he had married a wife, who, with her child,
remained in Thebes under the care of Setchem.

He was now filling Paaker's place in Syria during his absence; badly
enough, as the pioneer thought, and yet not without credit; for the
fellow knew how to write smooth words with a graceful pen.

Paaker, accustomed to solitude, became absorbed in thought, forgetting
everything that surrounded him; even the widow herself, who had sunk on
to a couch, and was observing him in silence.

He gazed into vacancy, while a crowd of sensations rushed confusedly
through his brain. He thought himself cruelly ill-used, and he felt too
that it was incumbent on him to become the instrument of a terrible fate
to some other person. All was dim 'and chaotic in his mind, his love
merged in his hatred; only one thing was clear and unclouded by doubt,
and that was his strong conviction that Nefert would be his.

The Gods indeed were in deep disgrace with him. How much he had expended
upon them--and with what a grudging hand they had rewarded him; he knew
of but one indemnification for his wasted life, and in that he believed
so firmly that he counted on it as if it were capital which he had
invested in sound securities. But at this moment his resentful feelings
embittered the sweet dream of hope, and he strove in vain for calmness
and clear-sightedness; when such cross-roads as these met, no amulet, no
divining rod could guide him; here he must think for himself, and beat
his own road before he could walk in it; and yet he could think out no
plan, and arrive at no decision.

He grasped his burning forehead in h