a, Barine's sister, and Chloris, Dion's nurse,
who had been a faithful assistant of his mother, and afterwards managed
the female slaves of the household.

How joyously and gratefully Barine held out her arms to her sister! Her
mother had been prevented from coming only by the warning that her
disappearance would surely attract the attention of the spies. And the
latter were very alert; for Mark Antony had not yet given up the pursuit
of the singer, nor had the attorney Philostratus recalled the
proclamation offering two talents for the capture of Dion, and both the
latter's palace and Berenike's house were constantly watched.

It seemed more difficult for the quiet Helena to accommodate herself to
this solitude than for her gayer-natured sister. Plainly as she showed
her love for Barine, she often lapsed into reverie, and every evening she
went to the southern side of the cliff and gazed towards the city, where
her grandparents doubtless sorely missed her, spite of the careful
attention bestowed upon them in Gorgias's house.

Eight days had passed since her arrival, and life in this wilderness
seemed more distasteful than on the first and the second; the longing for
her grandparents, too, appeared to increase; for that day she had gone to
the shore, even under the burning rays of the noonday sun, to gaze
towards the city.

How dearly she loved the old people!

But Dion's conjecture that the tears sparkling in Helena's eyes when she
entered their room at dusk were connected with another resident of the
capital, spite of his wife's indignant denial, appeared to be correct;
for, a short time after, clear voices were heard in front of the-house,
and when a deep, hearty laugh rang out, Dion started up, exclaiming,
"Gorgias never laughs in that way, except when he has had some unusual
piece of good fortune!"

He hurried out as he spoke, and gazed around; but, notwithstanding the
bright moonlight, he could see nothing except Father Pyrrhus on his way
back to the anchorage.

But Dion's ears were keen, and he fancied he heard subdued voices on the
other side of the dwelling. He followed the sound without delay and, when
he turned the corner of the building, stopped short in astonishment,
exclaiming as a low cry rose close before him:

"Good-evening, Gorgias! I'll see you later. I won't interrupt you."

A few rapid steps took him back to Barine, and as he whispered, "I saw
Helena out in the moonlight, soothing her long