t to Menecreta and called her by name, her mellow voice vibrating
with tender tones like the chords of the harp that are touched by a
master hand, and her blue eyes, veiled with tears, looked down with
infinite tenderness on the prostrate figure at her feet.

"Menecreta," she said gently, "thy sorrow hath made thee harsh. The
gods, believe me, still hold much happiness in store for thee and for
thy daughter. See how they refuse to register thy curse which had been
impious were it not the dictate of thy poor frenzied mind. See,
Menecreta, how thou didst misjudge me; what I did, I did because I
wished to test thy love for thy child. I wished to test its true
selflessness. But now I am satisfied and Nola need no longer choose, for
she shall have the luxury for which her young heart doth pine, but she
shall never by me be deprived of her mother's love."

Even while she spoke, Menecreta struggled to her knees. Her wide-open
eyes, over which a mysterious veil seemed to be slowly descending, were
fixed on the radiant vision above her. But comprehension had not yet
reached her mind. Her spirit had not yet been dragged from the hell of
despair to this glorious sight of heaven.

"Menecreta," continued the gentle voice, "thou shalt come to my house. A
free woman, thou shalt be my friend and thy daughter shall be thy happy
bondswoman. I'll give thee a little home in which thou shalt dwell with
her and draw thy last breath in her arms; there shall be a garden there
which she will plant with roses. Thy days and hers will be one
continuous joy. Come to me now, Menecreta! Take thy daughter by the hand
and come and dwell with her in the little house which my slaves shall
prepare for thee."

Her face now was almost on a level with that of Menecreta, whose hollow
eyes gazed upwards with a look of ecstatic wonder.

"Who art thou?" murmured the freedwoman; "there is a film over my
eyes--I cannot see--art thou a goddess?"

"Nay!" replied Dea Flavia gently, "only a lonely maiden who has no
friends e'en in the midst of all her riches. A lonely maid whom thou
didst try to curse, asking the gods that her every act of mercy be
turned to bitter sorrow. See, she takes thee to her heart and gives
thee back thy daughter, a home and happiness."

"My daughter?" murmured Menecreta.

"She shall dwell with thee in the house which shall be thine."

"A home?" and the trembling voice grew weaker, the hollow eyes more dim.

"Aye! in the midst of a