My Lady Miriam, I, your humble servant and friend, wish you farewell." "Farewell," she answered.

"Yes, Nehushta is right, you have a noble heart"; and she looked at him in such a fashion that it flashed across his mind that were he to proffer that request of his again, it might not be refused.

But Marcus would not do it.

He had tasted of the joy of self-conquest, who hitherto, after the manner of his age and race, had denied himself little, and, as it seemed to him, a strange new power was stirring in his heart--something purer, higher, nobler, than he had known before.

He would cherish it a while.
Of all that were spoken there in the garden, Caleb, the watcher, could catch no word.