Without haste, yet her progress was steady and good, with a natural grace set free by the loose Ionic dress--a cream-coloured _chiton_, girdled at the waist and falling from the shoulders to the feet in many folds, and above it a short mantle in gold-brown, bordered with white. Full of work of a high order, her dark eyes and finely carved mouth spoke beneficent purpose, while her fair countenance showed an Oriental seriousness and thought. Pathema might have spared herself a life of labour and risk and self-sacrifice. She might have enjoyed a life of fashion and pleasure and ease. Besides this, her beauty and accomplishments could have easily secured for her a home and affluence, had she so desired. But she had cast in her lot with One who had lived a higher life, which in working-out had made him a man of "no reputation." Pathema was a Christian, and as such had made herself a set of determined and malicious enemies. Her Christianity could not be mistaken. There was no mere form about it, no casual acts of duty, no hysterical nights, no insipidity, and no compromise,--the gods must go. It was a clear, steady, every-day light, peeping up in childhood, and burning brighter and brighter thro' the years. Though a lover of knowledge and fond of reasoning, she wasted no time in a vain jangle about faith and works, but illustrated both in her daily life. Encouraged by her parents, and acting as their medium, and that of other benefactors, she attended to the wants of a wide circle of sick and poor, both heathen and Christian. Like her Lord himself, she went about doing good. No one cheered and comforted the members of the Christian community more, no one was a greater inspiration, and no one was more unassuming. On the left bank of the Xanthus stood a large residence belonging to a man of wealth, a business friend of Pathema's father. In front there was no altar to Apollo Agyieus, and no statue of any god, the owner having distinct leanings toward Christianity. All that met the eye was a Victor's Laurel tree, behind the house, which was much greater in depth than width, was a garden, containing such trees as pomegranate, orange, and fig. To that house Pathema went. Ascending the steps and knocking at the door, she was met by a porter (with his dog), who led her and Miriam past his lodge and along the narrow passage to the first peristyle--a partly open courtyard. Here they awaited the appearance of the mistress. On all four sides were colonnades, under which were a banqueting room, a picture gallery, a library, servants' office, sitting rooms, and several bed-chambers. The visitors had not long to wait. "Peace be with you!" said the mistress, with a gracious smile. "Joy to thee!" was the reply.