“It cannot be that—he is—thy father?” Her voice had sunk to an awed whisper.
“Electra, thou readest my mind. Yea, yea, he is my father, that father I have so doubted. Thou canst imagine a little my shame, my sorrow. But I have told him, and he hath said that he doth know—that it was but in nature. Such is his grand heart.”
Electra had paused, and was breathing hard. For the first time in her life, words refused to come. Thus Hellen went on.
“Yea, and this is his plan for saving us. His wisdom hath caused these wonders—all save the quakings of the earth, and the voice. In Pelasgia, so much of hidden knowledge was his that the people called him the ‘favorite of the gods.’ And the gods are with him now.”
“But—the voice—Hellen?”
“The voice—ah, that is Sensel.” And he enlightened her. For the moment she stood motionless; and then seizing his arm that they might hasten on, murmured:
“Thou, Hellen, to further doubt! It is past belief. Help me to believe.”
“Electra, where now is thy surety?” laughed he gaily and fondly.
“That is right, Hellen. Turn upon me. I merit it after making naught thy words.” She smiled bewitchingly.
“Turn upon thee, I will! If the king sayeth the word for us to go, thou wilt see such a turning upon, shouldst thou not be of us. I will turn away from them to thee. Thus will I turn upon thee. Never will I leave thee!”