‘Kinsman, you are anxious,’ observed Cestus, as he slowly dribbled the wine into his cup until the liquid bubbled on the very brim. ‘I own it,’ replied Masthlion. The Suburan raised the brimming cup carefully to his mouth and took a deep draught, whilst the potter hastily took a sip which barely wet his lips. ‘Yes,’ continued Cestus, ‘you are anxious because you have a very strong notion that the time has come when that rare girl, who is warming her pretty limbs in bed upstairs, is beginning to trim her feathers to fly from the old bird’s nest.’ ‘I cannot deny it,’ replied Masthlion briefly. ‘Why, it is the way of the world. You could never hope for such as she to escape matrimony and go on, as a maiden, all her days?’ ‘It would not be likely; she is as good a child as she is fair. The point is already settled.’ ‘Well then, if she is fated to leave you with her husband, why should it trouble you the more to see me drop in? Did you think I was coming to carry her off? It would amount to the same thing if I did.’ ‘You are trifling, Cestus,’ said the potter somewhat sternly. ‘It is a sore trial to be bereft of an only child at any time, but that does not now constitute the whole matter. While she was a child all was well, but when she found a lover it behoved me to think that she and I were not all concerned in the matter. Had she been my own flesh and blood she could not have been more to me. Yet she is only a charge; and, although I thought you dead, I made the attempt to find you. When that attempt was vain, and you appeared so strangely and opportunely, I was agitated. I am anxious now, but in a different way—my load of responsibility has left me. The child is the dearest thing on earth to me, and what touches her touches me to the inmost fibre of my heart.’ ‘And with a perfect right, Masthlion. You have reared her and tended her, and she is yours more than anybody else’s,’ replied Cestus, nodding approvingly; ‘up to a few weeks ago I knew not whether she lived or not—whether you lived or not. You had her as your own, and you might have disposed of her according to your own ideas, but for circumstances, which, unexpectedly, occurring a few weeks ago, as I say, revived in me the greatest interest in the girl. I want no account of your stewardship, kinsman, for I cannot claim it—it is not needed; the girl bears it in her looks. I can neither claim any duty or affection—I want no sentiment—my concern is of a different nature. Nevertheless it is of sufficient importance to me to ask you to go into particulars about this gallant who has found the way to her heart.’ Cestus imbibed another good draught of wine, and after refilling his cup in readiness for the next, he settled himself to listen to the potter’s account of Neæra’s lover. When he had heard everything that Masthlion could tell him he ejaculated ‘Ha!’ and relapsed into deep thought as he gazed into the fire. ‘Well! what is your opinion?’ inquired Masthlion.