stones. "Yet it may be that I cannot agree with the opinion of the man
whose strength and wisdom are so far superior to mine, yet you have just
shown that you cannot tolerate the opposition of a woman, not even mine."

"Miriam," he interrupted reproachfully, but she continued still more
eagerly: "I have felt it, and because it would be the greatest grief of
my life to lose your heart, you must learn to understand me, ere you call
upon me to express my opinion."

"First hear my message."

"No, no!" she answered quickly. "The reply would die upon my lips.
Let me first tell you of the woman who has a loving heart, and yet knows
something else that stands higher than love. Do you smile? You have a
right to do so, you have so long been a stranger to the secret I mean to
confide. . . ."

"Speak then!" he interrupted, in a tone which betrayed how difficult it
was for him to control his impatience.

"I thank you," she answered warmly. Then leaning against the trunk of
the ancient tree, while he sank down on the bench, gazing alternately at
the ground and into her face, she began:

"Childhood already lies behind me, and youth will soon follow. When I
was a little girl, there was not much to distinguish me from others. I
played like them and, though my mother had taught me to pray to the God
of our fathers, I was well pleased to listen to the other children's
tales of the goddess Isis. Nay, I stole into her temple, bought spices,
plundered our little garden for her, anointed her altar, and brought