stay with me--trust me, your service shall be
light.'

Nydia bowed her head.

'What is your name, fair girl?'

'They call me Nydia.'

'Your country?'

'The land of Olympus--Thessaly.'

'Thou shalt be to me a friend,' said Ione, caressingly, 'as thou art
already half a countrywoman. Meanwhile, I beseech thee, stand not on
these cold and glassy marbles. There! now that thou art seated, I can
leave thee for an instant.'

'Ione to Glaucus greeting. Come to me, Glaucus,' wrote Ione, 'come to
me to-morrow. I may have been unjust to thee; but I will tell thee, at
least, the fault that has been imputed to thy charge. Fear not,
henceforth, the Egyptian--fear none. Thou sayest thou hast expressed
too much--alas! in these hasty words I have already done so. Farewell.'

As Ione reappeared with the letter, which she did not dare to read after
she had written (Ah! common rashness, common timidity of love!)--Nydia
started from her seat.

'You have written to Glaucus?'

'I have.'

'And will he thank the messenger who gives to him thy letter?'

Ione forgot that her companion was blind; she blushed from the brow to
the neck, and remained silent.

'I mean this,' added Nydia, in a calmer tone; 'the lightest word of
coldness from thee will sadden him--the lightest kindness will rejoice.
If it be the first, let the slave take back thine answer; if it be the
last, let me--I will return this evening.'

'And why, Nydia,' asked Ione, evasively, 'Wouldst thou be the bearer of
my letter?'

'It is so, then!' said Nydia. 'Ah! how could it be otherwise; who could
be unkind to Glaucus?'

'My child,' said Ione, a little more reservedly than before, 'thou
speakest warmly--Glaucus, then, is amiable in thine eyes?'

'Noble Ione! Glaucus has been that to me which neither fortune nor the
gods have been--a friend!'

The sadness mingled with dignity with which Nydia uttered these simple
words, affected the beautiful Ione: she bent down and kissed her. 'Thou
art grateful, and deservedly so; why should I blush to say that Glaucus
is worthy of thy gratitude? Go, my Nydia--take to him thyself this
letter--but return again. If I am from home when thou returnest--as
this evening, perhaps, I shall be--thy chamber shall be prepared next my
own. Nydia, I have no sister--wilt thou be one to me?' The Thessalian
kissed the hand of Ione, and then said, with some embarrassment:

'One favor, fair Ione--may I dare to ask it?'

'Thou can