be that of flight.
'My son,' said the Egyptian, 'what has chanced that you desire to shun
me?'

Apaecides remained silent and sullen, looking down on the earth, as his
lips quivered, and his breast heaved with emotion.

'Speak to me, my friend,' continued the Egyptian. 'Speak. Something
burdens thy spirit. What hast thou to reveal?'

'To thee--nothing.'

'And why is it to me thou art thus unconfidential?'

'Because thou hast been my enemy.'

'Let us confer,' said Arbaces, in a low voice; and drawing the reluctant
arm of the priest in his own, he led him to one of the seats which were
scattered within the grove. They sat down--and in those gloomy forms
there was something congenial to the shade and solitude of the place.

Apaecides was in the spring of his years, yet he seemed to have
exhausted even more of life than the Egyptian; his delicate and regular
features were worn and colorless; his eyes were hollow, and shone with a
brilliant and feverish glare: his frame bowed prematurely, and in his
hands, which were small to effeminacy, the blue and swollen veins
indicated the lassitude and weakness of the relaxed fibres. You saw in
his face a strong resemblance to Ione, but the expression was altogether
different from that majestic and spiritual calm which breathed so divine
and classical a repose over his sister's beauty. In her, enthusiasm was
visible, but it seemed always suppressed and restrained; this made the
charm and sentiment of her countenance; you longed to awaken a spirit
which reposed, but evidently did not sleep. In Apaecides the whole
aspect betokened the fervor and passion of his temperament, and the
intellectual portion of his nature seemed, by the wild fire of the eyes,
the great breadth of the temples when compared with the height of the
brow, the trembling restlessness of the lips, to be swayed and
tyrannized over by the imaginative and ideal. Fancy, with the sister,
had stopped short at the golden goal of poetry; with the brother, less
happy and less restrained, it had wandered into visions more intangible
and unembodied; and the faculties which gave genius to the one
threatened madness to the other.

'You say I have been your enemy,' said Arbaces, 'I know the cause of
that unjust accusation: I have placed you amidst the priests of
Isis--you are revolted at their trickeries and imposture--you think that
I too have deceived you--the purity of your mind is offended--you
imagine that I am