f that heaven
into which it must so soon vanish and be lost.

'Father,' said Olinthus, 'thou on whose form the miracle of the Redeemer
worked; thou who wert snatched from the grave to become the living
witness of His mercy and His power; behold! a stranger in our meeting--a
new lamb gathered to the fold!'

'Let me bless him,' said the old man: the throng gave way. Apaecides
approached him as by an instinct: he fell on his knees before him--the
old man laid his hand on the priest's head, and blessed him, but not
aloud. As his lips moved, his eyes were upturned, and tears--those
tears that good men only shed in the hope of happiness to
another--flowed fast down his cheeks.

The children were on either side of the convert; his heart was
theirs--he had become as one of them--to enter into the kingdom of
Heaven.

Chapter IV

THE STREAM OF LOVE RUNS ON. WHITHER?

DAYS are like years in the love of the young, when no bar, no obstacle,
is between their hearts--when the sun shines, and the course runs
smooth--when their love is prosperous and confessed. Ione no longer
concealed from Glaucus the attachment she felt for him, and their talk
now was only of their love. Over the rapture of the present the hopes
of the future glowed like the heaven above the gardens of spring. They
went in their trustful thoughts far down the stream of time: they laid
out the chart of their destiny to come; they suffered the light of
to-day to suffuse the morrow. In the youth of their hearts it seemed as
if care, and change, and death, were as things unknown. Perhaps they
loved each other the more because the condition of the world left to
Glaucus no aim and no wish but love; because the distractions common in
free states to men's affections existed not for the Athenian; because
his country wooed him not to the bustle of civil life; because ambition
furnished no counterpoise to love: and, therefore, over their schemes
and projects, love only reigned. In the iron age they imagined
themselves of the golden, doomed only to live and to love.

To the superficial observer, who interests himself only in characters
strongly marked and broadly colored, both the lovers may seem of too
slight and commonplace a mould: in the delineation of characters
purposely subdued, the reader sometimes imagines that there is a want of
character; perhaps, indeed, I wrong the real nature of these two lovers
by not painting more impressively their stronger in