so early lost. She herself had not seen her cousin for some few years,
for Seleukus had quarreled with his brother's family when they had
embraced Christianity. The third brother, Timotheus, the high-priest of
Serapis, had proved more placable, and his wife Euryale was of all women
the one she loved best. And presently it appeared that Agatha, too, had
lost her mother, and this drew the girls so closely together, that they
clasped hands and walked on like sisters or old and dear friends.

They were not kept long waiting outside the house of Proterius, for
Andreas was in the vestibule arranging the litter for the conveyance of
Diodoros, with the willing help of Ptolemaeus. The freedman was indeed
amazed when he heard Melissa's voice, and blamed her for this fresh
adventure. However, he was glad to see her, for, although it seemed
almost beyond the bounds of possibility, he had already fancied more than
once, as steps had approached and passed, that she must surely be coming
to lend him a helping hand.

It was easy to hear in his tone of voice that her bold venture was at
least as praiseworthy as it was blameworthy in his eyes, and the grave
man was as cheerful as he commonly was only when among his flowers.
Never before had Melissa heard a word of compliment from his lips, but
as Agatha stood with one arm round Melissa's shoulders, he said to the
physician, as he pointed to the pair, "Like two roses on one stem!"

He had good reason, indeed, to be content. Diodoros was no worse, and
Galen was certainly expected to visit the sick in the Serapeum. He
regarded it, too, as a dispensation from Heaven that Agatha and Melissa
should have happened to meet, and Alexander's happy escape had taken a
weight from his mind. He willingly acceded to Melissa's request that he
would take her and Agatha to see the sick man; but he granted them only a