firm.

'Poor Nika! would I could help thee! Were it in my power, I would place
thee in a holier sphere when thy new life comes, but such is not for me
to do. I cannot assert my own destiny, much less make thine. Thou
wouldst not help thyself by dying. I fear our ways lie apart. Thou
wouldst not care to follow me. My affinities are not thine, and beyond
they would mingle less. Now let me dry thy tears;' and taking her
richly-embroidered handkerchief, he brushed the pearly drops from her
cheeks, raised her hand to his lips, and kissed it.

'I will not leave thee, Nika, when I have passed through the vale, but
will do my best to lead thee through the gloom.'

He took her to the door of the cell and left her.

She staggered forward, lost her consciousness, and fell. They took her
to the fresh air, and after a while she looked upwards towards the
skies, murmuring:

'He is gone away. I saw him leave in the midst of a company of gods.
There--there is the rift in the blue where he entered. Chios! Chios!
Thou wilt come again--again,' and she fell back as one dead.

Quickly they bore her home. Agonizing fever set in with fury on her
until all hope of recovery was despaired of. They watched beside her.
Still there came no turn for the better.

One ever-recurring delirium was hers, and ever and anon she looked up
with vacant stare, saying:

'The pillar has fallen, the tree is stricken, but thou hast promised to
return to me!'

After the Roman had taken her to the house of Venusta, he went again to
Chios, and told him of her unhappy condition, imploring him, for the
sake of Nika, to free himself, as that seemed the only chance of saving
her life, for his name was always on her lips.

With profound sorrow Chios bent his head and groaned within, saying:

'Merciless Fates! What have I done to cause such suffering?... My heart
sorrows nigh to breaking yet my mind is fixed as a rock dashed upon by
many waves. I cannot alter my decision. I die, even if my own eternal
destiny were shattered by my refusing to live! All will be well with
Nika. She will live, but I shall be led to death. Farewell! My farewell
to Venusta, Nika, and glorious Ephesus with all its beauty! Remember my
last testament, and, should thou see an aged man with deep intelligence
stamped upon his brow--a foreigner, and chief of the Nazarenes (thou
wilt recognise him; he is without counterpart)--tell him I die in peace.
His God is mine. Again farewell!'

Th