uch take place, and favour me with her company?'

'Thanks; but that shall not be. I might cause thee perturbation;' and
she smiled rather cynically, or Chios thought so.

Chios was thoughtful, and his gaze was through the open window away over
the city towards the grove of Hecate, where the great trees peeped from
behind the mountain of Pion.

A dead silence fell on all, which was broken by Nika saying:

'I should so much like thee to paint a picture of myself. Say, wilt
thou? And when may I give thee first sitting?'

'When thou comest,' replied Chios, 'I will do my best.'

'Good!' said Venusta; 'thou shalt do it. I am sure it will do thee no
harm to look intently on a face like hers. It might perhaps soften thy
too sage-like brow; and then--who knows?--thou mightst captivate some
lovely girl--eh?--as lovely as Nika. What sayest thou, noble lord of
Rome?'

'True,' said he, 'it may be so; but I fear it is a hopeless case. He is
a confirmed bachelor.'

'Perhaps not,' said Nika's mother. 'Who can tell? He may now be madly in
love. Chios does such strange things. During his absence from us he may
have taken a wife, and at any moment herald her forth as the fairest of
Ionia. May it be so, noble Greek?'

'No; Samos may be levelled to the ocean bed, but thou wilt never--never
see me wed.'

'Thou art dark again, Chios. Move aside, girl,' said Venusta; 'let the
sun shine upon him;' but the face of Nika became clouded. She knew her
mother's wit was wounding the heart of the only man she really loved.

CHAPTER XVI

A GARDEN ON CORESSUS

The evening grew old, but the light still lingered in the sky, and
Venusta suggested a walk in the garden, seeing her daughter was agitated
and careworn.

The soft winds moved the leaves of the silver poplar, the violet-scented
air fanned their cheeks, the convolvuli were closing, and the narcissi
nodded good-night; it seemed sacrilege to break in on the perfumed
silence. Varro walked with Venusta, and Nika with the Greek. Chios was
the first to speak:

'Thou art unhappy to-night, Nika. What ails thee?'

'Nothing. I am happy. The evening air is sweet and pleasant to my soul,
and before thou didst speak I saw the first star glisten on the diadem
of night--shining out like a Pharos to the mariner; and as he knows by
it that land is nigh, so see I that star a beacon on the hills of a
far-away haven which perchance I may never