the spot to bring a basket, heavy with gifts, for Hylas. He came at the call of Evadne, fresh, glowing, beautiful as a child rocked on the breast of Aurora, and upheld by her cool, fanning wings. His cheek wore the kiss of the Sun, and his closely curling locks were wet by the scattered fountain, cold in the shaded grove. He broke the early silence of the air with song and story, and named for the admiring child the towns, the headlands, and the hills, over which the eye delighted to wander.
"Now is the hour," he said, "when mariners far away behold for a little while the dome of this temple. They believe that the gods have rendered it invisible except at the rising day; but, in truth, the oaks, the laurels, and the unpruned ivy conceal it from view, at all times, except when the rays from the east strike upward. I have delighted to teach the people fables concerning this island and the lost temple; for as long as they fear to tread upon this spot, I have a retreat for myself, where I range unmolested.
"See yonder, so white among the dark cypress-trees, my father's villa! It has gardens and shady groves, but I love best the wild branching oaks which give their shade to Evadne! Far away in the purple distance stands the Mount of Ida. There dwelt Paris, content with the love of Oenone, until he knew himself to be the son of a king, for whom Argive Helen alone was found worthy; for his eyes had rested once upon immortal charms, of which the green eternal pines of Ida are still whispering the story. See how the people of this village of Athos flock together! Some festival occupies them. I see them going forth from the gates in hurrying crowds; and now a band of men approaches. Some one is about to enter their town, to whom they wish to do honor, and doubtless they bear green branches to strew in the way. I know not what festival they celebrate, for the altars are all deserted."
"I see a boat put off from the shore," said Evadne, "and it seems to turn its prow hitherward."
But it soon was concealed by the woody hill-top, although its course was seen to be directed towards the ruined huts upon the shore. Not long after, the children heard the name of "Evadne," brought faintly by the echoes, like the words of unseen ghosts who strive to awaken some beloved sleeper unconscious of their presence.
Evadne feared to return, and dared not stay. For the first time, the voice of her foster-father failed to bring her obedient footsteps; for her fluttering heart suspected something strange and unwelcome awaiting her. She wept at parting from Hylas, and the boy detained her. He also seemed troubled.
"Dear little one," he said, "betray me not! These men of Athos have seen me, and have authority to bring me bound before some ruler who has entered their town. They come to look for me now. I fly to my hiding-place, and you will deny that you saw any one in this forest."
He was gone down the face of the cliff, with winged feet, light of tread as Jove's messenger. More slowly, Evadne retraced the downward path, and lingered on the banks of the ravine, where the bitter waters were sobbing among the rocks. She lay down upon the ground, and dreamed, while yet waking, of her home in Thessaly, of her unknown father in the Christian city of Thyatira, and of Hylas, ever Hylas, and the pain of parting. How long she hid herself she guessed not, until the sun at the zenith sent down his brightest beam to discover the lost Thessalian lamb. Then, subdued and despairing, she travelled on to meet the reproaches that could not fail to await her.
CHAPTER V.
At midnight the sleepless girl stole from her couch, and laid on the altar beyond the village heavy clusters of grapes and the richest fruits from her store of dainties. "Hylas!" she softly cried, and
