“But all the gold must be saved for the god, no gift of ours, but his own, his right,” said another.
Instantly all assented to this. Their hearts were dewy fresh with gratitude. They were like noisy, happy children.
Melantho was bending over Dryas. He had reacted now from the first shock and was restless with fever.
“Oh, let us go home,” pleaded Melantho. “See, this is no place for my sick boy. Oh, I want to go home.”
Poor home-body, she was almost in terror at being from under her accustomed roof.
Nikander held Dryas’s hand. His face clouded as he answered her.
“If we go, we shall have to do without Theria’s help,” he answered.
“I can care for my son,” said Melantho. “But Theria—surely to-day the priests will let her——”
Nikander was looking away. “I do not dare to provoke them,” he said very low.