themselves there was no visible defect--their melancholy and subdued
light was clear, cloudless, and serene. 'They tell me that Glaucus is
here,' said she; 'may I come in?'

'Ah, my Nydia,' said the Greek, 'is that you I knew you would not
neglect my invitation.'

'Glaucus did but justice to himself,' answered Nydia, with a blush; 'for
he has always been kind to the poor blind girl.'

'Who could be otherwise?' said Glaucus, tenderly, and in the voice of a
compassionate brother.

Nydia sighed and paused before she resumed, without replying to his
remark. 'You have but lately returned?'

'This is the sixth sun that hath shone upon me at Pompeii.'

'And you are well? Ah, I need not ask--for who that sees the earth,
which they tell me is so beautiful, can be ill?'

'I am well. And you, Nydia--how you have grown! Next year you will be
thinking what answer to make your lovers.'

A second blush passed over the cheek of Nydia, but this time she frowned
as she blushed. 'I have brought you some flowers,' said she, without
replying to a remark that she seemed to resent; and feeling about the
room till she found the table that stood by Glaucus, she laid the basket
upon it: 'they are poor, but they are fresh-gathered.'