ehemence; stretches out his arms to embrace the air, and ripples
forth a half-dozen sentences,--pleading, insinuating, passionate. He
can love her again as much as ever, now that the wrong done him is on
the eve of requital.

But his mood is no less fickle than melting. Already he is up and
away, almost dancing along the shadowed, romantic tree-aisle, his eyes
glistening black in the starlight,--no longer with a lover's luxurious
sorrow, but with the happy anticipation of an artless child, promised
a holiday and playthings. So lightsome and expansive is Manetho's
heart, the hollow hemisphere of heaven seems none too roomy for it!

Evil as well as good knows its moments of bliss,--its hours! Hell is
the heaven of devils, and they want no better. Often do the wages of
sin come laden with a seeming blessing that those of virtue lack. The
sinner looks upon Satan's face, and it is to him as the face of God!

But from the womb of this grim truth is born a noble consolation. Were
hell mere torment, and joy in heaven only, where were the good man's
merit? Only when the choice lies between two heavens--the selfish and
the unselfish--is the battle worthy the fighting! No human soul dies
from earth that attains not heaven,--that heaven which the heart
chiefly sought while in this world; and herefrom is the genesis of
virtue. Sin brings its self-inflicted penalties there as here; but
hell is still the happiness of man, heaven of God!

Reaching the house, Manetho passed through the open door, crossed the
hall with his customary noiselessness, and entered the conservatory.
Despite the darkness, he was at once aware of the motionless group
beneath the palm-trees. A stranger in the house was something so
unprecedented that he could not repress a throb of alarm. Nurse looked
up and beckoned him. Drawing near, he heard the long, deep breathing
of the sleeper. With a sudden fore-glimpse of the truth, he knelt
down, and bent over the upturned countenance.

Though the beard was close-shaven and the hair cropped short, there
could be no doubt about the face. His guest had come before him, and
was lying defenceless at his feet; but Manetho harbored no thought of
violence. He pressed his slender hands together with an impulse of
sympathy. "Poor fellow!" he whispered, "how he has suffered! How the
horror of blood-guiltiness must have tortured him! The noble Helwyse
hair,--all gone! Too dear a price to pay for the mere sacrifice of a
human