WHEN Glaucus arrived at his own home, he found Nydia seated under the of his garden. In fact, she had sought his house in the chance that he might return at an early hour: anxious, fearful, anticipative, she resolved upon seizing the earliest opportunity of availing herself of the love-charm, while at the same time she half hoped the opportunity might be .  
It was then, in that fearful burning mood, her heart beating, her cheek flushing, that Nydia awaited the possibility of Glaucus's return before the night. He crossed the portico just as the first stars began to rise, and the heaven above had assumed its most purple robe.
 
'Ho, my child, wait you for me?'
 
', I have been tending the flowers, and did but linger a little while to rest myself.'
 
'It has been warm,' said Glaucus, placing himself also on one of the seats beneath the .
 
'Very.'
 
' thou summon Davus? The wine I have drunk heats me, and I long for some cooling drink.'
 
Here at once, suddenly and unexpectedly, the very opportunity that Nydia awaited presented itself; of himself, at his own free choice, he afforded to her that occasion. She breathed quick—'I will prepare for you myself,' said she, 'the summer that Ione loves—of honey and weak wine cooled in snow.'
 
'Thanks,' said the unconscious Glaucus. 'If Ione love it, enough; it would be grateful were it poison.'
 
Nydia frowned, and then smiled; she withdrew for a few moments, and returned with the cup containing the . Glaucus took it from her hand. What would not Nydia have given then for one hour's of sight, to have watched her hopes to effect—to have seen the first dawn of the imagined love—to have worshipped with more than Persian the rising of that sun which her soul believed was to break upon her night! Far different, as she stood then and there, were the thoughts, the emotions of the blind girl, from those of the vain Pompeian under a similar . In the last, what poor and passions had made up the daring whole! What petty , what small revenge, what expectation of a triumph, had the attributes of that sentiment she with the name of love! but in the wild heart of the Thessalian all was pure, uncontrolled, unmodified passion—erring, unwomanly, , but debased by no elements of a more feeling. Filled with love as with life itself, how could she resist the occasion of winning love in return!
 
She leaned for support against the wall, and her face, before so flushed, was now white as snow, and with her delicate hands clasped convulsively together, her lips apart, her eyes on the ground, she waited the next words Glaucus should utter.
 
Glaucus had raised the cup to his lips, he had already drained about a fourth of its contents, when his eye suddenly glancing upon the face of Nydia, he was so forcibly struck by its , by its intense, and painful, and strange expression, that he paused , and still holding the cup near his lips, exclaimed:
 
'Why, Nydia! Nydia! I say, art thou ill or in pain? Nay, thy face speaks for thee. What my poor child?' As he , he put down the cup and rose from his seat to approach her, when a sudden shot coldly to his heart, and was followed by a wild, confused, dizzy sensation at the brain. The floor seemed to from under him—his feet seemed to move on air—a and unearthly gladness rushed upon his spirit—he felt too buoyant for the earth—he longed for wings, nay, it seemed in the buoyancy of his new existence, as if he them. He burst involuntarily into a loud and thrilling laugh. He clapped his hands—he bounded aloft—he was as a Pythoness inspired; suddenly as it came this preternatural transport passed, though only , away. He now felt his blood rushing loudly and rapidly through his ; it seemed to , to , to leap along, as a stream that has burst its bounds, and hurries to the ocean. It in his ear with a mighty sound, he felt it mount to his brow, he felt the veins in the temples stretch and swell as if they could no longer contain the violent and increasing tide—then a kind of darkness fell over his eyes—darkness, but not entire; for through the dim shade he saw the opposite walls glow out, and the figures painted thereon seemed, ghost-like, to creep and glide. What was most strange, he did not feel himself ill—he did not sink or beneath the that was over him. The novelty of the feelings seemed bright and vivid—he felt as if a younger health had been infused into his frame. He was on to madness—and he knew it not!
 
Nydia had not ans............