All this had given purpose to her life; still, every little victory in this contest had filled her soul with regrets and anxieties.  For months and years she had been conspicuous as the opponent of her lover’s creed, and the bright eager child had developed into a grave girl a clear-headed and resolute woman.  She was the only person in the house who dared to contradict her grandmother, and to insist on a thing when she thought it right.  The longing of her heart she could not still, but her high spirit found food for its needs in all that surrounded her, and, by degrees, would no doubt have gained the mastery and have been supreme in all her being and doing, but that music and song still fostered the softer emotions of her strong, womanly nature.

The news of Constantine’s return had shaken her soul to the foundations.  Would it bring her the greatest happiness or only fresh anguish and unrest?

She saw him coming!—­The plume of his helmet first came in sight above the bushes, and then his whole figure emerged from among the shrubbery.  She leaned against the pillar for support now, for her knees trembled under her.  Tall and stately, his armor blazing in the sunshine, he came straight towards her—­a man, a hero—­exactly as her fancy had painted him in many a dark and sleepless hour.  As he passed her mother’s tomb, she felt as though a cold hand laid a grip on her beating heart.  In a swift flash of thought she saw her own home with its wealth and splendor, and then the ship-builder’s house-simple, chillingly bare, with its comfortless rooms; she felt as though she must perish, nipped and withered, in such a home.  Again she thought of him standing on his father’s threshold, she fancied she could hear his bright boyish laugh and her heart glowed once more.  She forgot for the moment—­clear-headed woman though she was, and trained by her philosopher to “know herself”—­she forgot what she had fully acknowledged only the night before:  That he would no more give up his Christ than she would her Isis, and that if they should ever reach the dreamed-of pinnacle of joy it must be for an instant only, followed by a weary length of misery.  Yes—­she forgot everything; doubts and fears were cast aside; as his approaching footsteps fell on her ear, she could hardly keep herself from flying, open armed, to meet him.

He was standing before her; she offered him her hand with frank gladness, and, as he clasped it in his, their hearts were too full for words.  Only their eyes gave utterance to their feelings, and when he perceived that hers were sparkling through tears, he spoke her name once, twice—­joyfully and yet doubtfully, as if he dared not interpret her emotion as he would.  She laid her left hand lightly on his which still grasped her right, and said with a brilliant smile:  “Welcome, Constantine, welcome home!  How glad I am to see you back again!”

“And I—­and I . . . " he began, greatly moved.