The hostess took out of the chest another evidently sacred and cherished treasure, a perforated silver box of sweet, fragrant spices, which they smelt, and with this they perfumed the room. The sweet aromatic scent reached to where the captives were among the fruit-trees. After that the silver treasures are again carefully wrapped up and packed into the chest with the parchment manuscripts, folded in costly, gold-embroidered Oriental silks.
Then the hostess came and bade the youth and maiden inside, and prepared for them an abundant and tempting meal, such as it was long since they had tasted; and the host went out into the city.
Her manner became much more frank and cordial when she was alone with her guests. All day, whenever they were together, Ethne had noticed the soft, dark eyes following her with an intense expression of wistful inquiry; and when the old man came back and took Baithene out with him, the hostess laid her head on Ethne’s shoulder and burst into tears, sobbing out one name, “My Rachel! my Rachel!”
And so it came about, that between broken Latin and Irish, and the universal human speech of sorrow and pity, through eyes and tender touches (how neither of them could ever explain), the two women came to understand that one had lost a daughter as the other a mother, and that each had much need of the other, and both would try, in such measure as they could, to comfort one another.
The dog also understood and accepted the hostess as a clanswoman, and was ready to lavish on her more attentions of caressing tongue and paws than for some reason not comprehended by him or by Ethne she felt free to accept.
CHAPTER VI.
“MOVING ABOUT IN WORLDS NOT REALIZED.”
