“That is, if there is any Melnos to rule over,” replied Maurice, with an uneasy laugh; “for, by Jove, uncle, when that earthquake came, I thought everything had gone to kingdom come.”
“Ah, you see, father, I was right about the earthquake last night!” said Helena in triumph; “I felt that something was going to happen!”
“Yes, but you thought it would be an eruption,” answered Justinian, with apparent indifference, though there was an anxious look on his face; “as to an earthquake, why, these Greek islands are all volcanic, so that means nothing.”
“How did you get on after I left you, uncle?”
“Why, I set my men to work, to build up the barricade again, with turf and bags of sand. You were a long time gone, my son, and I became afraid that you had been cut to pieces, so, when the work was done, I intended taking some men and going after you. Then the earthquake occurred, and we heard the fall of the roof at the cliff entrance. I thought you were dead for sure, and cannot tell you of the anguish I felt at your loss. However, Temistocles brought me the news of your safe arrival at the western pass, and I breathed freely again. Oh, my dear Maurice,” continued the Demarch, taking his nephew’s hand, “how fervently do I thank God that you are alive! for if those scoundrels had killed you, indeed I do not think I would have had the heart to continue living in Melnos.”
Maurice was greatly touched with his uncle’s emotion, which was a rare thing for the iron old Demarch to display, for as a rule he took both good and bad fortune with the utmost equanimity, and seldom gave any outward signs of his feelings on such occasions. His nephew, however, was very dear to his heart, and he looked upon him with great pride, both as his future son-in-law and successor, so it had been a terrible blow to him, to think he had lost a young man on whom all his future hopes depended.
As for Helena, she said nothing, but, genuine offspring of her father as she was, bore up pluckily, though it could be plainly seen that she had suffered much during the absence of her lover. Fortunately, the time which had elapsed between Maurice’s supposed death and subsequent reappearance had been too short to permit of her knowing of the calamity, else, brave as she was, she would certainly have given way under such a cruel misfortune. As it was, however, he now sat beside her safe and sound, so all the terrible events which he detailed with such coolness only seemed to be some hideous nightmare which had vanished at the coming of morning.
She insisted upon Maurice’s going to bed for a good sleep after breakfast, in which insistence she was supported by her father, who saw that Maurice was more shaken by his late fatigue than he chose to acknowledge.
“You can sleep for a few hours at all events, my son,” he said affectionately, “for Alcibiades has lost too many men to think about making another attack, at least for some time.”
“Are you not going to sleep yourself?”