"Now the audience began to perceive that a contest was really going on: it was a contest of speed and endurance, and the longer the girl ran the more inclined the people were to take her part. At last there was a great shout that she should be allowed to escape. A little door was opened in the side of the amphitheater; she shot through it, and it was closed almost in the face of the panting and furious bear." "What became of the poor girl?" exclaimed Mrs. Crowder. "A sculptor bought her," said Mr. Crowder. "He wanted to use her as a model for a statue of the swift Diana; but this never came to anything. The girl could not be made to stand still for a moment. She was in a chronic condition of being frightened to death. After that I heard of her no more; it was easy for people to disappear in Rome. But this incident in the arena was remembered and talked about for many years afterward. The fact that a girl was possessed of such extraordinary swiftness that she would have been able to escape from a wild beast, by means of her speed alone, had she been in an open plain, was considered one of the most interesting natural wonders which had been brought to the notice of the Roman people by the sports in the arena." "Fortunately," said Mrs. Crowder, "thee did not--" "No," said her husband, "I did not. I required more than speed in a case like that. And now I think," said he, rising, "we must call this session concluded." The next day I was obliged to bid farewell to the Crowders, and my business arrangements made it improbable that I should see them again for a long time--I could not say how long. As I bade Mr. Crowder farewell and stood holding his hand in mine, he smiled, and said: "That's right. Look hard at me; study every line in my face, and then when you see me again you will be better able--" "Not a bit," said Mrs. Crowder. "He is just as able to judge now as he will be if he stays away for twenty years." I believed her, as I warmly shook her hand, and I believe that I shall always continue to believe her.