‘Marvel of marvels!’ he gasped; ‘what, Cestus, is it [pg 189]thou? From where? Thou art not dead, then—the gods be praised.’
‘I’m glad on’t, kinsman, if it hath pleased thee,’ said Cestus.
‘I have had you in my mind every day for months past—nay, as you entered, you were present in my mind.’
‘That was love indeed, and means a warm welcome—thanks, brother!’
‘Welcome—ay, welcome!’ exclaimed the potter, seizing both hands of the Suburan and shaking them fervently, ‘the very man of all I wished to see, and the least expected. It is the doing of the gods—praised be the gods!’
‘Humph!’ ejaculated Cestus, just a little doubtful whether his kinsman’s joy was altogether attributable to personal regard; ‘and, if you will let me have my say, I am just as light-hearted as you to find you on earth, and not departed to the land of spirits. Luck is with you, Cestus! But how of Tibia, my sister?’
‘Did you not see her in the house?’
‘She is breathing like yourself, then! No, I saw her not, nor any live being, though I looked in every room. More fortune, Cestus; for they are all just as you would wish them, even to—and this bonny wench, kinsman. This is the little lass I saw last, as a bit of a chit, with her doll of rags?’
‘The same, Cestus—Neæra; she has grown,’ said Masthlion.
‘Grown! You say true. Neæra—I had forgotten your name—come, kiss your uncle, after how many years away, he dare not say, lest it make him feel so old.’