must be Orion--but why did he not dismount? No, it could not be he; his
tall figure would have overtopped the shrubbery which was of low growth.

She did not know her host's friends; it was one of them very likely. Now
the horse had turned the corner; now it was coming up the path from the
front gate; now Rufinus had gone forth to meet the visitor--and it was
not Orion, but his secretary, a much smaller man, who slipped off a mule
that she at once recognized, threw the reins to a lad, handed something
to the old man, and then dropped on to a bench to yawn and stretch his
legs.

Then she saw Rufinus come towards the house. Had Orion charged this
messenger to bring her her possessions? She thought this somewhat
insulting, and her blood boiled with wrath. But there could be no
question here of a surrender of property; for what her host was holding
in his hand was nothing heavy, but a quite small object; probably, nay,
certainly a roll of papyrus. He was coming up the narrow stairs, so she
ran out to meet him, blushing as though she were doing something wrong.
The old man observed this and said, as he handed her the scroll:

"You need not be frightened, daughter of a hero. The young lord is not
here himself, he prefers, it would seem, to treat with you by letter;
and it is best so for both parties."

Paula nodded agreement; she took the roll, and then, while she tore the
silken tie from the seal, she turned her back on the old man; for she
felt that the blood had faded from her face, and her hands were
trembling.

"The messenger awaits an answer," remarked Rufinus, before she began to