Glaucus. She hurried on--she passed the
gate of the city--she was in the long street leading up the town. The
houses were opened, but none were yet astir in the streets; the life of
the city was scarce awake--when lo! she came suddenly upon a small knot
of men standing beside a covered litter. A tall figure stepped from the
midst of them, and Ione shrieked aloud to behold Arbaces.

'Fair Ione!' said he, gently, and appearing not to heed her alarm: 'my
ward, my pupil! forgive me if I disturb thy pious sorrows; but the
praetor, solicitous of thy honour, and anxious that thou mayest not
rashly be implicated in the coming trial; knowing the strange
embarrassment of thy state (seeking justice for thy brother, but
dreading punishment to thy betrothed)--sympathizing, too, with thy
unprotected and friendless condition, and deeming it harsh that thou
shouldst be suffered to act unguided and mourn alone--hath wisely and
paternally confided thee to the care of thy lawful guardian. Behold the
writing which intrusts thee to my charge!'

'Dark Egyptian!' cried Ione, drawing herself proudly aside; 'begone! It
is thou that hast slain my brother! Is it to thy care, thy hands yet
reeking with his blood, that they will give the sister Ha! thou turnest
pale! thy conscience smites thee! thou tremblest at the thunderbolt of
the avenging god! Pass on, and leave me to my woe!'

'Thy sorrows unstring thy reason, Ione,' said Arbaces, attempting in
vain his usual calmness of tone. 'I forgive thee. Thou wilt find me
now, as ever, thy surest friend. But the public streets are not the
fitting place for us to confer--for me to console thee. Approach,
slaves! Come, my sweet charge, the litter awaits thee.'

The amazed and terrified attendants gathered round Ione, and clung to
her knees.

'Arbaces,' said the eldest of the maidens, 'this is surely not the law!
For nine days after the funeral, is it not written that the relatives of
the deceased shall not be molested in their homes, or interrupted in
their solitary grief?'

'Woman!' returned Arbaces, imperiously waving his hand, 'to place a ward
under the roof of her guardian is not against the funeral laws. I tell
thee I have the fiat of the praetor. This delay is indecorous. Place
her in the litter.'

So saying, he threw his arm firmly round the shrinking form of Ione.
She drew back, gazed earnestly in his face, and then burst into
hysterical laughter:

'Ha, ha! this is well--wel