The vain Julia was not, as we have seen, easily affrighted; she was moved by the flattery of Arbaces, and she readily consented to suffer Nydia to await her return; nor did Nydia press her presence.  At the sound of the Egyptian’s voice all her terror of him returned:  she felt a sentiment of pleasure at learning she was not to travel in his companionship.

She returned to the Bath-house, and in one of the private chambers waited their return.  Many and bitter were the thoughts of this wild girl as she sat there in her eternal darkness.  She thought of her own desolate fate, far from her native land, far from the bland cares that once assuaged the April sorrows of childhood—­deprived of the light of day, with none but strangers to guide her steps, accursed by the one soft feeling of her heart, loving and without hope, save the dim and unholy ray which shot across her mind, as her Thessalian fancies questioned of the force of spells and the gifts of magic.

Nature had sown in the heart of this poor girl the seeds of virtue never destined to ripen.  The lessons of adversity are not always salutary—­sometimes they soften and amend, but as often they indurate and pervert.  If we consider ourselves more harshly treated by fate than those around us, and do not acknowledge in our own deeds the justice of the severity, we become too apt to deem the world our enemy, to case ourselves in defiance, to wrestle against our softer self, and to indulge the darker passions which are so easily fermented by the sense of injustice.  Sold early into slavery, sentenced to a sordid taskmaster, exchanging her situation, only yet more to embitter her lot—­the kindlier feelings, naturally profuse in the breast of Nydia, were nipped and blighted.  Her sense of right and wrong was confused by a passion to which she had so madly surrendered herself; and the same intense and tragic emotions which we read of in the women of the classic age—­a Myrrha, a Medea—­and which hurried and swept away the whole soul when once delivered to love—­ruled, and rioted in, her breast.

Time passed:  a light step entered the chamber where Nydia yet indulged her gloomy meditations.

‘Oh, thanked be the immortal gods!’ said Julia, ’I have returned, I have left that terrible cavern!  Come, Nydia! let us away forthwith!’

It was not till they were seated in the litter that Julia again spoke.

‘Oh!’ said she, tremblingly, ’such a scene! such fearful incantations! and the dead face of the hag!—­But, let us talk not of it.  I have obtained the potion—­she pledges its effect.  My rival shall be suddenly indifferent to his eye, and I, I alone, the idol of Glaucus!’

‘Glaucus!’ exclaimed Nydia.

’Ay!  I told thee, girl, at first, that it was not the Athenian whom I loved:  but I see now that I may trust thee wholly—­it is the beautiful Greek!’