aising her, he kissed her
forehead, 'think of it no more! But why, my child, wert thou so
suddenly angry? I could not divine the cause?'

'Do not ask!' said she, coloring violently. 'I am a thing full of
faults and humors; you know I am but a child--you say so often: is it
from a child that you can expect a reason for every folly?'

'But, prettiest, you will soon be a child no more; and if you would have
us treat you as a woman, you must learn to govern these singular
impulses and gales of passion. Think not I chide: no, it is for your
happiness only I speak.'

'It is true,' said Nydia, 'I must learn to govern myself I must bide, I
must suppress, my heart. This is a woman's task and duty; methinks her
virtue is hypocrisy.'

'Self-control is not deceit, my Nydia,' returned the Athenian; and that
is the virtue necessary alike to man and to woman; it is the true
senatorial toga, the badge of the dignity it covers!'

'Self-control! self-control! Well, well, what you say is right! When I
listen to you, Glaucus, my wildest thoughts grow calm and sweet, and a
delicious serenity falls over me. Advise, ah! guide me ever, my
preserver!'

'Thy affectionate heart will be thy best guide, Nydia, when thou hast
learned to regulate its feelings.'

'Ah! that will be never,' sighed Nydia, wiping away her tears.

'Say not so: the first effort is the only difficult one.'

'I have made many first efforts,' answered Nydia, innocently. 'But you,
my Mentor, do you find it so easy to control yourself? Can you conceal,
can you even regulate, your love for Ione?'

'Love! dear Nydia: ah! that is quite another matter,' answered the young
preceptor.

'I thought so!' returned Nydia, with a melancholy smile. 'Glaucus, wilt
thou take my poor flowers? Do with them as thou wilt--thou canst give
them to Ione,' added she, with a little hesitation.

'Nay, Nydia,' answered Glaucus, kindly, divining something of jealousy
in her language, though he imagined it only the jealousy of a vain and
susceptible child; 'I will not give thy pretty flowers to any one. Sit
here and weave them into a garland; I will wear it this night: it is not
the first those delicate fingers have woven for me.'

The poor girl delightedly sat down beside Glaucus. She drew from her
girdle a ball of the many-colored threads, or rather slender ribands,
used in the weaving of garlands, and which (for it was her professional
occupation) she carried constantly with