He could now see her shining hair, the graceful oval of her head, and her white throat eagerly bent forward; an indescribable longing came over him to press a kiss on her head; but he forbore, for he remembered his friend's words that he would fulfil the part of a guardian to these girls.

He too would be a protector to her, aye and more than that, he would care for her as a father might.

Still, as often as the chariot jolted over a stone, and he touched her to support her, the suppressed wish revived, and once when her hair was blown quite close to his lips he did indeed kiss it--but only as a friend or a brother might.

Still, she must have felt the breath from his lips, for she turned round hastily, and gave him back the reins; then, pressing her hand to her brow, she said in a quite altered voice--not unmixed with a faint tone of regret: "This is not right--please now to turn the horses round." Lysias, instead of obeying her, pulled at the reins to urge the horses to a swifter pace, and before he could find a suitable answer, she had glanced up at the sun, and pointing to the east she exclaimed: "How late it is already! what shall I say if I have been looked for, and they ask me where I have been so long?
Why don't you turn round--nor ask me anything about my parents ?" The last words broke from her with vehemence, and as Lysias did not immediately reply nor make any attempt to check the pace of the horses, she herself seized the reins exclaiming: "Will you turn round or no ?" "No!" said the Greek with decision.

"But--" "And this is what you intended!" shrieked the girl, beside herself.