"Be quiet, child," interrupted Hannah, patting the sick girl with a
soothing hand, "you soon will learn how God takes care of you and that
Another loves you."

"Another," muttered Selene, and her cheeks turned crimson.

She thought at once of Pollux, and asked herself why the story of her
sufferings should have moved him so deeply if he were not in love with
her. Then she began to seek some colorable ground for what she had heard
as she went past the screen behind which he had been working. He had
never told her plainly that he loved her. Why should he, an artist and a
bright, high spirited young fellow, not be allowed to jest with a pretty
girl, even if his heart belonged to another. No, she was not indifferent
to him: that she had felt that night when she had stood as his model, and
now--as she thought--I could guess, nay, feel sure of, from Mary's story.

The longer she thought of him, the more she began to long to see him whom
she had loved so dearly even as a child. Her heart had never yet beat
for any other man, but since she had met Pollux again in the hall of the
Muses, his image had filled her whole soul, and what she now felt must be
love--could be nothing else. Half awake, but half asleep, she pictured
him to herself, entering this quiet room, sitting down by the head of her
couch, and looking with his kind eyes into hers. Ah! and how could she
help it--she sat up and opened her arms to him.

"Be still, my child, he still," said Hannah. "It is not good for you to
move about so much."

Selene opened her eyes, but only to close them again and to dream for