e for love's sake and a joy to both parties."

"Amen," said the leech; and Paula had been quite satisfied by her
friend's arrangements.

By the next day she felt herself one of the household, though she every
hour found something that could not fail to strike her as strange.

CHAPTER XIX.

When Paula had eaten with Rufinus and his family after the funeral
ceremonies, she went into the garden with Pul and the old man--it had
been impossible to induce Perpetua to sit at the same table with her
mistress. The sun was now low, and its level beams gave added lustre
to the colors of the flowers and to the sheen of the thick, metallic
foliage of the south, which the drought and scorching heat had still
spared. A bright-hued humped ox and an ass were turning the wheel which
raised cooling waters from the Nile and poured them into a large tank
from which they flowed through narrow rivulets to irrigate the beds.
This toil was now very laborious, for the river had fallen to so low a
level as to give cause for anxiety, even at this season of extreme ebb.
Numbers of birds with ruffled feathers, with little splints on their
legs, or with sadly drooping heads, were going to roost in small cages
hung from the branches to protect them from cats and other beasts of
prey; to each, as he went by, Rufinus spoke a kindly word, or chirruped
to encourage and cheer it. Aromatic odors filled the garden, and rural
silence; every object shone in golden glory, even the black back of the
negro working at the water-wheel, and the white and yellow skin of the
ox; while the clear voices of the choir of nuns thrilled through the
convent-grove. Pul listened, turning her face to meet it, and crossing
her arms over her heart. Her father pointed to her as he said to Paula:

"That is where her heart is. May she ever have her God before her eyes!
That cannot but be the best thing for a woman. Still, among such as we
are, we must hold to the rule: Every man for his fellowman on earth, in
the name of the merciful Lord!--Can our wise and reasonable Father in
Heaven desire that brother should neglect brother, or--as in our case--a
child forsake its parents?"

"Certainly not," replied Paula. "For my own part, nothing keeps me from
taking the veil but my hope of finding my long-lost father; I, like your
Pulcheria, have often longed for the peace of the cloister. How piously
rapt your daughter stands there! What a sweet and touching sight!--In my
heart al