rom the couch:

"A good and just man is gone from the land of the living."

Orion cried aloud and pushed away Mary, who had stolen close to him;
for, young as she was, she felt that it was she who had brought the
worst woe on her uncle, and that it was her part to show him some
affection.

She ran then to her grandmother; but she, too, put her aside and fell on
her knees by the side of her wretched son to weep with him; to console
him who was inconsolable, and in whom, a few minutes since, she had
hoped to find her own best consolation; but her fond words of motherly
comfort found no echo in his broken spirit.

CHAPTER XVI.

When Philippus had parted from Paula he had told her that the Mukaukas
might indeed die at any moment, but that it was possible that he might
yet struggle with death for weeks to come. This hope had comforted her;
for she could not bear to think that the only true friend she had had
in Memphis, till she had become more intimate with the physician, should
quit the world forever without having heard her justification.
Nothing could be more unlikely than that any one in Neforis'
household--excepting her little grandchild should ever remember her with
kindness; and she scarcely desired it; but she rebelled against the idea
of forfeiting the respect she had earned, even in the governor's house.
If her friend should succeed in prolonging her uncle's life, by a
confidential interview with him she might win back his old affection and
his good opinion.

Her new home she felt was but a resting-place, a tabernacle in the
desert-journey of her solitary pilgrimage, and she here meant to
avail herself of the information she had gathered from her Melchite
dependents. Hope had now risen supreme in her heart over grief
and disappointment. Orion's presence alone hung like a threatening
hail-cloud over the sprouting harvest of her peace of mind. And yet,
next to the necessity of waiting at Memphis for the return of her
messenger, nothing tied her to the place so strongly as her interest
in watching the future course of his life, at any rate from a
distance. What she felt for him-and she told herself it was deep
aversion-nevertheless constituted a large share of her inner life,
little as she would confess it to herself.

Her new hosts had received her as a welcome guest, and they certainly
did not seem to be poor. The house was spacious, and though it was old
and unpretentious it was comfortable and furn