“Would not that be right for her?” he said. “If it is, she is sure to see and do the thing that is right.” “She _will_ think this right,” Damaris replied. “And what ought _we_ to do?” he asked, in an anguish of suspense. “Pray Leo’s prayer,” she replied, “all of us. Teach us to think and do the things that are rightful.” “It is an excellent prayer,” said Marius very respectfully, but not, apparently, at all consoled, “and prayer always comforts thee.” Then the mother threw her arms around her son, and a radiant smile illumined her face as she looked up into his. “Ethne’s heart will surely turn to thee, my son,” she said. “God has chosen her out of all the world for thee, and led her to thee, as He led Eve to Adam. Trust Him, and trust her.” “Mother,” he said, “may I say anything to her?” “You may say what you will,” she replied, “or what you can, whatever thy heart feels free to say, and she is willing to hear. Thou art free, and she is free. Let her choose what she will, and in her own time.” “But my father?” he asked. “Leave him to me,” smiled Damaris. “We have understood each other long enough.” Marius had not long to wait. Soon after, Lucia joined them, and they waited in the porch for the return of Ethne and Baithene. It was evening before they came back, with a happy repose in their look and manner. This newly acknowledged freedom seemed to make little difference to Ethne; but Baithene’s step was light with a new spring, and his whole being had a new power, not so much as if he had been ransomed from bondage, but as if he had sprung at a bound into full and princely manhood, prepared to take his place in the world. Fabricius drew near and greeted him with a smile. “You have been to your friends the Israelites. Doubtless,” he added with some malice to Ethne, “you, lady, have kept your rigid determination to bestow nothing on them.” “She has given Miriam the treasure she values most—an ancient heirloom of our house,” replied Baithene. Ethne could not defend herself; and Lucia kissed her hand, laughing, and said— “Of course; I knew—we all knew what thou wouldst do!” Had Lucia spoken thus but yesterday, Baithene would have retorted with a jest; but with the recognition of their freedom and true place in the world, and all the happy possibilities the breaking down of any barrier between them might involve, had come also an indefinable distance between them, and he only said— “I had thought that very jewel might be accepted by thy mother or by thee, little as our poor barbarian treasures must seem to you.” Damaris expressed a wish to see the Irish treasures again, and whilst the others went into an inner chamber to look at them, Marius remained alone with Ethne in the portico, the soft perfume of lilies and roses coming to them from the gardens. Whilst he was hesitating what to say, she began— “Tell me,” she said, “about Lupus, the good old Bishop of Troyes. Is he back in his own city again?”