messenger to bring her her possessions? She thought this somewhat
insulting, and her blood boiled with wrath. But there could be no
question here of a surrender of property; for what her host was holding
in his hand was nothing heavy, but a quite small object; probably, nay,
certainly a roll of papyrus. He was coming up the narrow stairs, so she
ran out to meet him, blushing as though she were doing something wrong.
The old man observed this and said, as he handed her the scroll:

"You need not be frightened, daughter of a hero. The young lord is not
here himself, he prefers, it would seem, to treat with you by letter;
and it is best so for both parties."

Paula nodded agreement; she took the roll, and then, while she tore the
silken tie from the seal, she turned her back on the old man; for
she felt that the blood had faded from her face, and her hands were
trembling.

"The messenger awaits an answer," remarked Rufinus, before she began to
read it. "I shall be below and at your service." He left; Paula returned
to the sick-room, and leaning against the frame of the casement, read as
follows, with eager agitation:

"Orion, the son of George the Mukaukas who sleeps in the Lord, to his
cousin the daughter of the noble Thomas of Damascus, greeting.

"I have destroyed several letters that I had written to you before this
one." Paula shrugged her shoulders incredulously. "I hope I may succeed
better this time in saying what I feel to be indispensable for your
welfare and my own. I have both to crave a favor and offer counsel."

"Counsel! he!" thought the girl with a scornful curl of the lips, as she
went on. "May the memory of the man who loved you as his daughter, and
who on his death-bed wished for nothing so much as to see you--averse as
he was to your creed--and bless you as his daughter indeed, as his son's
wife,--may the remembrance of that just man so far prevail over your
indignant and outraged soul that these words from the most wretched man
on earth, for that am I, Paula, may not be left unread. Grant me the
last favor I have to ask of you--I demand it in my father's name."

"Demand!" repeated the damsel; her cheeks flamed, her eye sparkled
angrily, and her hands clutched the opposite sides of the letter as
though to tear it across. But the next words: "Do not fear," checked
her hasty impulse--she smoothed out the papyrus and read on with growing
excitement:

"Do not fear that I shall address you as a love