he plume of his helmet first came in sight above
the bushes, and then his whole figure emerged from among the shrubbery.
She leaned against the pillar for support now, for her knees trembled
under her. Tall and stately, his armor blazing in the sunshine, he came
straight towards her--a man, a hero--exactly as her fancy had painted
him in many a dark and sleepless hour. As he passed her mother's tomb,
she felt as though a cold hand laid a grip on her beating heart. In
a swift flash of thought she saw her own home with its wealth and
splendor, and then the ship-builder's house-simple, chillingly bare,
with its comfortless rooms; she felt as though she must perish, nipped
and withered, in such a home. Again she thought of him standing on his
father's threshold, she fancied she could hear his bright boyish laugh
and her heart glowed once more. She forgot for the moment--clear-headed
woman though she was, and trained by her philosopher to "know
herself"--she forgot what she had fully acknowledged only the night
before: That he would no more give up his Christ than she would her
Isis, and that if they should ever reach the dreamed-of pinnacle of joy
it must be for an instant only, followed by a weary length of misery.
Yes--she forgot everything; doubts and fears were cast aside; as his
approaching footsteps fell on her ear, she could hardly keep herself
from flying, open armed, to meet him.

He was standing before her; she offered him her hand with frank
gladness, and, as he clasped it in his, their hearts were too full for
words. Only their eyes gave utterance to their feelings, and when he
perceived that hers were sparkling through tears, he spoke her name
once, twice--joyfully and yet doubtfully, as if he dared not interpret
her emotion as he would. She laid her left hand lightly on his which
still grasped her right, and said with a brilliant smile: "Welcome,
Constantine, welcome home! How glad I am to see you back again!"

"And I--and I..." he began, greatly moved.

"O Gorgo! Can it really be years since we parted?"

"Yes, indeed," she said. "Anxious, busy, struggling years!"

"But to-day we celebrate the festival of Peace," he exclaimed fervently.
"I have learnt to leave every man to go his own way so long as I am
allowed to go mine. The old strife is buried; take me as I am and I, for
my part, will think only of the noble and beautiful traits in which your
nature is so rich. The fruit of all wholesome strife must be