joy. And the little goatherd's mind was filled with terror--nor would his
father tell him further what the mystery meant. But when he went to his bed
of dried leaves at night, and the moon rose upon the lake, and the great
woods murmured in the hollow far beneath him, he tossed restlessly from
side to side, thinking of the new priest who kept watch there--of his young
limbs and miserable eyes--of that voice which he had flung to heaven. And
the child tried to believe that he might yet escape.--But already in his
dreams he saw the grove part once more and the slayer leap forth. He saw
the watching crowd--and their fierce, steady eyes, waiting thirstily for
the spilt blood. And it was as though a mighty hand crushed the boy's
heart, and for the first time he shrank from the gods, and from his
father,--so that the joy of his youth was darkened within him.'

* * * * *

As he read the last word, Manisty flung the sheets down upon the table
beside him, and rising, he began to pace the room with his hands upon his
sides, frowning and downcast. When he came to Mrs. Burgoyne's chair he
paused beside her--

'I don't see what it has to do with the book. It is time lost'--he said to
her abruptly, almost angrily.

'I think not,' she said, smiling at him. But her tone wavered a little, and
his look grew still more irritable.

'I shall destroy it!'--he said, with energy--'nothing more intolerable than
ornament out of place!'

'Oh don't!--don't alter it at all!' said a quick imploring voice.