hed the shore. She met her mother who appeared wasted
and pale; she had grown thin and sad, and her noble features revealed
the traces of a hopeless sorrow and of touching constancy.

"What has happened to thee, dear mother?" asked Fable; "thou seemest to
me entirely changed; I should not know thee except by internal signs. I
hoped once more to refresh myself at thy breast; I have pined after
thee for a long time."

Ginnistan caressed her tenderly, and became calm and serene.

"I thought from the first," said she, "that the scribe would not take
thee captive. It refreshes me to see thee. Poor and pinched are my
affairs now; but I console myself with hoping that it will soon end.
Perhaps I am about to have a moment of rest. Eros is near; and when he
sees thee and thou speakest with him, he may tarry some time. In the
mean time come to my bosom. I will give thee what I have."

She took Fable upon her lap, proffered her breast, and while smiling
upon the little one who was enjoying her feast, continued, "I am myself
the cause that Eros has become so wild and inconstant. But yet I repent
it not, for those hours have made me immortal. I believe that his fiery
caresses have strangely transformed him. Long, silver-white wings
covered his glittering shoulders, and the charming fulness of his form.
The strength, which swelling forth had so suddenly changed him from a
youth to a man, seemed entirely to have withdrawn into his wings, and
he had become again a boy. The silent glow of his face became like the
dazzling fire of a will-o'-the-wisp, his holy seriousness had changed
to dissembled roguishness, the significant calm to childish
irresolution, the noble carriage to a droll agility. I felt
irresistibly attracted to the wanton boy by an ardent passion, and
suffered with pain his sneering scorn, and his indifference to my most
touching prayers. I perceived that my form was changed. My careless
serenity had fled, and its place filled with sorrowful anxiety and
shrinking timidity. I would have hidden myself with Eros from all eyes.
I had not the heart to meet his offending eye, and was overwhelmed with
shame and humility. I had no thoughts but for him; and would have given
my life to free him from his wantonness. Deeply as he had hurt my
feelings, I was compelled to worship him.

"Since the time when he discovered himself and escaped me, I have
continually been in pursuit of him, though I have conjured him
touchingly and with