The old people had set forth at once on their pilgrimage, and Heliodora
had done her part in urging them to this step. Her passion for Orion,
to whom, for more than a year, her gentle heart had been wholly devoted,
had increased every hour since his departure. She had not concealed it
from Martina, who thought it no less than her duty to stand by the poor
lovesick child; for Heliodora had nursed her husband, the senator's
nephew, to the end, with touching fidelity and care; and besides, Martina
had given the young Egyptian--with whom she was "quite in love herself"
--every opportunity of paying his addresses to the young widow.

They were a pair that seemed made for each other, and Martina delighted
in match-making. But in this case, though hearts had met, hands had not,
and finally it had been a real grief to Martina to hear Orion and
Heliodora called--and with good reason--a pair of lovers.

Once she had appealed in her genial way to the young man's conscience,
and he had replied that his father, who was a Jacobite, would never
consent to his union with a woman of any other confession. At that time
she had found little to answer; but she had often thought if only she
could make the Mukaukas acquainted with Heliodora, he, whom she had known
in the capital as a young and handsome admirer of every charming woman,
would certainly capitulate.

Her favorite niece had indeed every grace that a father's heart could
desire to attract the son. She was of good family, the widow of a man of
rank, rich, but just two and twenty, and beautiful enough to bewitch old
or young. A sweeter and gentler soul Martina had never known. Those
large dewy eyes-imploring eyes, she called them--might soften a stone,
and her fair waving hair was as soft as her nature. Add to this her
full, supple figure--and how perfectly she dressed, how exquisitely she