thdrew; she gazed again upon the form of the young slave in
surprise and beautiful compassion; then, retiring a little from her, she
opened and read the following letter:

'Glaucus to Ione sends more than he dares to utter. Is Ione ill? thy
slaves tell me "No", and that assurance comforts me. Has Glaucus
offended Ione?--ah! that question I may not ask from them. For five
days I have been banished from thy presence. Has the sun shone?--I know
it not. Has the sky smiled?--it has had no smile for me. My sun and my
sky are Ione. Do I offend thee? Am I too bold? Do I say that on the
tablet which my tongue has hesitated to breathe? Alas! it is in thine
absence that I feel most the spells by which thou hast subdued me. And
absence, that deprives me of joy, brings me courage. Thou wilt not see
me; thou hast banished also the common flatterers that flock around
thee. Canst thou confound me with them? It is not possible! Thou
knowest too well that I am not of them--that their clay is not mine. For
even were I of the humblest mould, the fragrance of the rose has
penetrated me, and the spirit of thy nature hath passed within me, to
embalm, to sanctify, to inspire. Have they slandered me to thee, Ione?
Thou wilt not believe them. Did the Delphic oracle itself tell me thou
wert unworthy, I would not believe it; and am I less incredulous than
thou I think of the last time we met--of the song which I sang to
thee--of the look that thou gavest me in return. Disguise it as thou wilt,
Ione, there is something kindred between us, and our eyes acknowledged
it, though our lips were silent. Deign to see me, to listen to me, and
after that exclude me if thou wilt. I meant not so soon to say I loved.
But those words rush to my heart--they will have way. Accept, then, my
homage and my vows. We met first at the shrine of Pallas; shall we not
meet before a softer and a more ancient altar?

'Beautiful! adored Ione! If my hot youth and my Athenian blood have
misguided and allured me, they have but taught my wanderings to
appreciate the rest--the haven they have attained. I hang up my
dripping robes on the Sea-god's shrine. I have escaped shipwreck. I
have found THEE. Ione, deign to see me; thou art gentle to strangers,
wilt thou be less merciful to those of thine own land? I await thy
reply. Accept the flowers which I send--their sweet breath has a
language more eloquent than words. They take from the sun the odorous
the