“We have need of care. The stones have eyes, the air hath ears. Now, hearken, for soon will I go back to the temple.”
Hellen pressed his hand in assent; then asked:
“But, first—mother. Is she well?”
“Thy mother is as well as she can be under her great grief.”
“The gods be thanked. Ah, what a wretch am I! Father, when thou knowest my evil heart, thou wilt not own me.”
“Fear not, Hellen. Thou art but man. And now, hearken.”
“I will.”
“Hellen, after the Atlanteans had borne away thyself and Æole, I reached Larissa to find thy mother nigh to death. Day and night I watched until she came out of the shadow. Then I besought ransom of the people. But they were deaf, in their rage at the Atlanteans. I ceased my pleadings after it was given me to feel, yea, to see—hidden things—and to be sure that all would end well.
“Then came new misery. The tribes to the north sought battle with us; and I was forced to leave thy mother, and go against them. For a year did this last.
“In the end, the loss and ruin were theirs. Then came I home to find thy mother again nigh to death. But, after a little, new life came to her, and with it hope. She was strong in the thought that we should get our children—was of one mind with me—for, if knowledge can come from above, such was mine. But of this later.