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Agnes seemed absorbed; and bent forward that keen and tender look which we have mentioned, as though she saw before her, nay, as if she heard speaking to her, some one delicately beloved. It passed away, and she gaily said, “Well, well, Fabiola, stranger things have come to pass; and at any rate, if aught so dreadful had to happen, Syra would just be the sort of person one would like to see near one; so you really must let me have her.”

“For heaven’s sake, Agnes, do not take my words so seriously. I assure you they were spoken in jest. I have too high an opinion of your good sense to believe such a calamity possible. But as to Syra’s devotedness, you are right. When last summer you were away, and I was so dangerously ill of contagious fever, it required the lash to make the other slaves approach me; while that poor thing would hardly leave me, but watched by me, and nursed me day and night, and I really believe greatly promoted my recovery.”

“And did you not love her for this?”

“Love her! Love a slave, child! Of course, I took care to reward her generously; though I cannot make out what she does with what I give her. The others tell me she has nothing put by, and she certainly spends nothing on herself. Nay, I have even heard that she foolishly shares her daily allowance of food with a blind beggar-girl. What a strange fancy, to be sure!”