"It is my poor, blind Thessalian," said Glaucus, stopping; "I have not seen her since my return to Pompeii. Hush! let us listen to her song." THE BLIND FLOWER GIRL'S SONG Buy my flowers, O buy, I pray! The blind girl comes from afar; If the earth be as fair as I hear them say, These flowers her children are! Do they her beauty keep? They are fresh from her lap, I know, For I caught them fast asleep In her arms an hour ago. Ye have a world of light, Where love in the loved rejoices; But the blind girl's home is the house of night, And its beings are empty voices. Come buy,--buy, come buy!-- Hark! how the sweet things sigh (For they have a voice like ours) O buy--O buy the flowers! "I must have that bunch of violets, sweet Nydia," said Glaucus, "your voice is more charming than ever." The blind girl started forward as she heard the Athenian's voice; then as suddenly paused, while a blush of timidity flushed over neck, cheeks, and temples. "So you are returned!" she said in a low voice. "Yes, child, I have not been at Pompeii above a few days. My garden wants your care, you will visit it, I trust, to-morrow, and mind, no garlands at my house shall be woven by any hands but those of the pretty Nydia." Nydia smiled joyously but did not answer; and Glaucus, placing in his breast the violets he had selected, turned gaily and carelessly from the crowd. Though of gentle birth, for her cradle was rocked at the foot of Olympus, Nydia had been sold when quite young to Burbo, a gladiator of the amphitheater. She was cruelly treated by the wife of Burbo. Glaucus bought her, took her to his home, and her sweetest joy was to minister to the comfort and entertainment of her deliverer. The vines that grew upon the walls of the peristyle were not more graceful, their tendrils not more trusting and tender, nor the flowers woven into wreaths and garlands by her skillful fingers more beautiful than the blind flower-girl of the house of Glaucus. As the months went on what wonder that the kind words and sympathetic voice which had been the first that had sounded musically to her ear should awaken in the breast of Nydia a deeper love than that which springs from gratitude alone! What wonder that in her innocence and blindness she knew no reason why the most brilliant and the most graceful of the young nobles of Pompeii should entertain none other than feelings of friendship for her! When the Athenian drew her unconsciously to his breast, deeming her still a child--when he kissed her cheek and wound his arm around her trembling form, Nydia felt that those feelings she had innocently cherished were of love. What wonder then that into her wild and passionate soul should creep the pangs of jealousy when another claimed the homage of him who was all to her!