But Eudoxia was not to be shaken; though she admitted that Mary’s project was not so entirely crazy as it had at first appeared.

At this the little girl began again; after reminding Eudoxia once more of her oath, she went on to tell her of the doom she herself hoped to escape by setting out on her errand.  She told Eudoxia of her meeting with the bishop, and that even Joanna was uneasy as to her future fate.  Ah! that life within walls under lock and key seemed to her so frightful—­and she pictured her terrors, her love of freedom and of a busy, useful, active life among men and her friends, and her hope that the great general, Amru, would defend her against every one if once she could place herself under his protection—­painting it all so vividly, so passionately, and so pathetically, that the governess was softened.

She clasped her hands over her eyes, which were streaming with tears, and exclaimed:  “It is horrible, unheard-of—­still, perhaps it is the best thing to do.  Well, go to meet the governor,—­ride off, ride off!”

And when the sweet, warm-hearted, joyous creature clang round her neck she was glad of her own weakness:  this fair, fresh, and blooming bud of humanity should not pine in confinement and seclusion; she should find and give happiness, to her own joy and that of all good souls, and unfold to a full and perfect flower.  And Eudoxia knew the widow well; she knew that Joanna would by-and-bye understand why she helped the child to escape the greatest peril that can hang over a human soul:  that of living in perpetual conflict with itself in the effort to become something totally different from what, by natural gifts and inclinations, it is intended to be.

With a sigh of anguish Eudoxia reflected what she herself, forced by cruel fate and lacking freedom and pleasurable ease, had become, from an ardent and generous young creature; and she, the narrow-hearted teacher, could make allowances for the strange, adventurous yearning of a child, where a larger souled woman might have derided, and blamed and repressed it.

When it was daylight Eudoxia fulfilled the offices she commonly left to the maid:  she arranged Mary’s hair, talking to her and listening the while, as though in this night the child had developed into a woman.  Then she went into the garden with her, and hardly let her out of her sight.

At breakfast Joanna and Pulcheria wondered at her singular behavior, but it did not displease them, and Marv was radiant with contentment.

The widow made no objection to allowing the child to go into the city to execute her uncle’s mysterious commission.  Rustem was with her; and whatever it was that made the child so happy must certainly be right and unobjectionable.  Orion’s maps and lists were sent to the prison early in the day, and before the child set out with her stalwart escort Gibbus had returned with the prisoner’s letter to the Arab governor.