lips of
the sweet unconscious child.

"And I am so glad," Nefert went on, "that the day has come at last when
we can talk of him together again, and when the old grudge that lay
so heavy in my heart is all forgotten. How good you are to us, I have
already learned; my heart overflows with gratitude to you, when I
remember my childhood, and I can never forget that I was indebted to you
for all that was bright and happy in it. Only look at the big dog--poor
Descher!--how he rubs against me, and shows that he has not forgotten
me! Whatever comes from your house fills my mind with pleasant
memories."

"We all love you dearly," said Paaker looking at her tenderly.

"And how sweet it was in your garden!" cried Nefert. "The nosegay here
that you have brought me shall be placed in water, and preserved a long
time, as greeting from the place in which once I could play carelessly,
and dream so happily."

With these words she pressed the flowers to her lips; Paaker sprang
forward, seized her hand, and covered it with burning kisses.

Nefert started and drew away her hand, but he put out his arm to clasp
her to him. He had touched her with his trembling hand, when loud voices
were heard in the garden, and Nemu hurried in to announce he arrival of
the princess Bent-Anat.

At the same moment Katuti appeared, and in a few minutes the princess
herself.

Paaker retreated, and quitted the room before Nefert had time to express
her indignation. He staggered to his chariot like a drunken man. He
supposed himself beloved by Mena's wife, his heart was full of triumph,
he proposed rewarding Hekt with gold, and went to the palace without
delay to crave of Ani a mission to Syria. There it should be brought to
the test--he or Mena.

CHAPTER XXV.

While Nefert, frozen with horror, could not find a word of greeting for
her royal friend, Bent-Anat with native dignity laid before the widow
her choice of Nefert to fill the place of her lost companion, and
desired that Mena's wife should go to the palace that very day.

She had never before spoken thus to Katuti, and Katuti could not
overlook the fact that Bent-Anat had intentionally given up her old
confidential tone.

"Nefert has complained of me to her," thought she to herself, "and she
considers me no longer worthy of her former friendly kindness."

She was vexed and hurt, and though she understood the danger which
threatened her, now her daughter's eyes were opened, still the