"It raises hideous questions from time to time," he replied, gloomily.
"It can be obtrusive, but we can teach ourselves not to answer--besides,
what you call conscience knows the motives for every action, and,
remembering them, judges leniently. You, child, should do the same; for
you--"

"O my lord, what can my poor judgment matter?" Melissa panted out; but
Caracalla exclaimed, as if the question pained him:

"Must I explain all that? The stars, as you know, proclaim to you, as to
me, that a higher power has joined us as light and warmth are joined.
Have you forgotten how we both felt only yesterday? Or am I mistaken?
Has not Roxana's soul entered into that divinely lovely form because it
longed for its lost companion spirit?"

He spoke vehemently, with a quivering of his eyelids; but feeling her
hand tremble in his own, he collected himself, and went on in a lower
tone, but with urgent emphasis:

"I will let you glance into this bosom, closed to every other eye; for
my desolate heart is inspired by you to fresh energy and life; I am as
grateful to you as a drowning man to his deliverer. I shall suffocate
and die if I repress the impulse to open my heart to you!"

What change was this that had come over this mysterious being? Melissa
felt as though she was gazing on the face of a stranger, for, though his
eyelids still quivered, his eyes were bright with ecstatic fire and his
features looked more youthful. On that noble brow the laurel wreath he
wore looked well. Also, as she now observed, he was magnificently
attired; he wore a close-fitting tunic, or breast-plate made of thick