undertakings. When her
grandmother read in the stars that some evil influences were to cross
the path of Gorgo's planet, the girl was carefully kept in the house; at
other times she was free to go with the boys in the garden, on the lake
or to the ship-yard. There the happy playmates built houses or boats;
there, in a separate room, old Melampus modelled figure-heads for the
finished vessels, and he would supply them with clay and let them model
too. Constantine was an apt pupil, and Gorgo would sit quiet while he
took her likeness, till, out of twenty images that he had made of her,
several were really very like. Melampus declared that his young master
might be a very distinguished sculptor if only he were the son of poor
parents, and Gorgo's father appreciated his talent and was pleased when
the boy attempted to copy the beautiful busts and statues of which
the house was full; but to his parents, and especially his mother,
his artistic proclivities were an offence. He himself, indeed, never
seriously thought of devoting himself to such a heathenish occupation,
for he was deeply penetrated by the Christian sentiments of his family,
and he had even succeeded in inflaming the sons of Porphyrius, who had
been baptized at an early age, with zeal for their faith. The merchant
perceived this and submitted in silence, for the boys must be and remain
Christians in consequence of the edict referring to wills; but the
necessity for confessing a creed which was hateful to him was so painful
and repulsive to a nature which, though naturally magnanimous was
not very steadfast, that he was anxious to spare his sons the same
experience, and allowed them to accompany Constantine to church and to
wear blue--the badge of the Christians--at races and public games, with
a shrug of silent consent.

With Gorgo it was different. She was a woman and need wear no colors;
and her enthusiasm for the old gods and Greek taste and prejudices were
the delight of her father. She was the pride of his life, and as he
heard his own convictions echoed in her childish prattle, and later in
her conversation and exquisite singing, he was grateful to his mother
and to his friend Olympius who had implanted and cherished these
feelings in his daughter. Constantine's endeavors to show her the beauty
of his creed and to win her to Christianity were entirely futile; and
the older they grew, and the less they agreed, the worse could each
endure the dissent of the