While Arbaces perished with the majority, these three eventually gained the sea, and joined a group, who, bolder than the rest, resolved to hazard any peril rather than continue on the stricken land.

Utterly exhausted, Ione slept on the breast of Glaucus, and Nydia lay at his feet.  Meanwhile, showers of dust and ashes fell into the waves, scattered their snows over the deck of the vessel they had boarded, and, borne by the winds, descended upon the remotest climes, startling even the swarthy African, and whirling along the antique soil of Syria and of Egypt.

Meekly, softly, beautifully dawned at last the light over the trembling deep!  The winds were sinking into rest, the foam died from the azure of that delicious sea.  Around the east thin mists caught gradually the rosy hues that heralded the morning.  Light was about to resume her reign.  There was no shout from the mariners at the dawning light—­it had come too gradually, and they were too wearied for such sudden bursts of joy—­but there was a low, deep murmur of thankfulness amidst those watchers of the long night.  They looked at each other, and smiled; they took heart.  They felt once more that there was a world around and a God above them!

In the silence of the general sleep Nydia had risen gently.  Bending over the face of Glaucus, she softly kissed him.  She felt for his hand; it was locked in that of Ione.  She sighed deeply, and her face darkened.  Again she kissed his brow, and with her hair wiped from it the damps of night.

“May the gods bless you, Athenian!” she murmured “May you be happy with your beloved one!  May you sometimes remember Nydia!  Alas! she is of no further use on earth.”

With these words she turned away.  A sailor, half-dozing on the deck, heard a slight splash on the waters.  Drowsily he looked up, and behind, as the vessel bounded merrily on, he fancied he saw something white above the waves; but it vanished in an instant.  He turned round again and dreamed of his home and children.

When the lovers awoke, their first thought was of each other, their next of Nydia.  Every crevice of the vessel was searched—­there was no trace of her!  Mysterious from first to last, the blind Thessalian had vanished from the living world!  They guessed her fate in silence, and Glaucus and Ione, while they drew nearer to each other, feeling each other the world itself, forgot their deliverance, and wept as for a departed sister.

* * * * *

The Last of the Barons

A romance of York and Lancaster’s “long wars,” “The Last of the Barons” was published in 1843, shortly before the death of Bulwer’s mother, when, on inheriting the Knebworth estates, he assumed the surname of Lytton.  The story is an admirably chosen historical subject, and in many respects is worked out with even more than Lytton’s usual power and effect.  Incident is crowded