She stopped her pacing and faced him. He was amazed at the change in her—a look of release, of purpose in her face that had never been there before. Seeing her eyes so shining, he realized that always heretofore they had held a bafflement, a look of discouragement and hunger. That look was gone. Now she was strangely creative, maternal onward-moving. The very lift of her head was free. He seemed to see a new Theria. “Daughter,” Nikander said, “I did not, no, I did not realize it would mean all this to you.” “Dear Father, dear Father,” she said. * * * * * Nikander at once plunged into the further details of the colony. Theria’s enthusiasm was contagious. She listened to him, absorbed. Suddenly she stopped him. “Of course Eëtíon knows of my leadership? He approves?” “I did not see him, Daughter. I came hot-foot to you.” “But Eëtíon should have known it first of all.” Her eyes looked startled, then deep trouble entered into them. “Suppose he does not wish to go?” “But he will go, Daughter. I am sure he will.” “I am not sure, not sure,” was her troubled answer. “Eëtíon has been so beaten about the world. He is so pathetically glad to be here at home in Hellas.” “I’ll make him go,” laughed Nikander. “Oh, but that is not what I want. No, Eëtíon, too, must be happy. If he were saddened, all the joy would go out of the work; I would lose my luck.” “Oh, but he’ll go for your sake.” She seemed not to hear him. “Father”—she turned to him with sudden pleading—“may I not see Eëtíon? I long to see him now—_now_. What foolishness to keep us apart. We are betrothed, Eëtíon and I.” “But I can tell him about the colony.” “No, no, I must tell him myself. Please, Father, please!” He could not resist her pleading. He kissed her. “Impetuous daughter,” he called her. But he went forth to find Eëtíon. CHAPTER XLIV THE METIC Theria was heroic no longer. She ran to find Baltè. “Baltè, dress me quick, quick,” she commanded. “No, in my festival dress, the white one with the purple-flowered border. And I want the lovely big necklace, too, with the golden shells and amethysts.” Theria’s fingers trembled as she helped to fasten the robe. “Eëtíon is coming,” she whispered. “Oh, he may be here any moment.” But many moments passed and even hours. Theria went now to the upper window, now down to the door, thinking she had seen Eëtíon on the road, now back into the court. “Why doesn’t he come?” she said despairingly. “Oh, he is against the colony. Father is trying to persuade him. That is what keeps them. It could be nothing else. Perhaps Eëtíon will not let me go at all.” Theria had lived so long in half serfdom that she could not, save in certain burning moments, credit her freedom to do this thing. At last Baltè tried to persuade her to eat her breakfast. “You are famished, darling,” quoth the nurse. “How pale you are. Your lover must not see you so pale.”