n
be back again.

Of how different a home-coming had Melissa dreamed! What new and
terrible griefs were these! Still, though distressed at the thought of
her vehement father in prison, she shed no tears, but told herself
that matters could only be mended by rational action on behalf of the
victims, and not by lamentations. She must be alone, to collect her
strength and consider the situation. So she desired Dido, to her great
amazement, to prepare some food, and bring her wine and water. Then,
seating herself, with a melancholy glance at her embroidery where it lay
folded together, she rested her elbow on the table and her head in her
hand, considering to whom she could appeal to save her father.

First she thought of Caesar himself, whose eye had met hers, and for
whom she had prayed and offered sacrifice. But the blood fired her
cheeks at the thought, and she repelled it at once. Yet her mind would
linger at the Serapeum, where her lover, too, still rested his fevered
head. She knew that the high-priests' spacious lodgings there, with
their splendid rooms and banqueting halls, had been prepared for the
emperor; and she remembered various things which her brother had
told her of Timotheus, who was at the head not only of the heathen
priesthood, but also of the museum. He was said to be a philosopher, and
Philip had more than once been distinguished by him, and invited to his
house. Her brother must apply to him. He, who was in a way Caracalla's
host, would easily succeed in obtaining her father's release, from his
imperial guest.

Her grave face brightened at this thought, and, while she ate and
drank, another idea struck her. Alexander, too, must be known to the
high-priest; for Timotheus was the brother of Seleukus, whose daughter
the artist had just painted, and Timotheus had seen the portrait and
praised it highly. Thus it was not improbable that the generous man
would, if Philip besought him, intercede for Alexander. So all might
turn out better than she had ventured to hope.

Firmly convinced that it was her part to rescue her family, she once
more reviewed in her mind every acquaintance to whom she might look
for aid; but even during her meditations her tired frame asserted its
rights, and when Dido came in to remove the remains of the meal and the
empty wine-cup, she found Melissa sunk in sleep.

Shaking her head, and saying to herself that it served the old man right
for his cruel treatment of a dutiful