As Esther started in return to the summer-house, the sunlight fell softly upon the dustless roof, showing her a woman now—small, graceful in form, of regular features, rosy with youth and health, bright with intelligence, beautiful with the outshining of a devoted nature—a woman to be loved because loving was a habit of life irrepressible with her.
She looked at the package as she turned, paused, looked at it a second time more closely than at first; and the blood rose reddening her cheeks—the seal was Ben-Hur’s. With quickened steps she hastened on.
Simonides held the package a moment while he also inspected the seal. Breaking it open, he gave her the roll it contained.
“Read,” he said.
His eyes were upon her as he spoke, and instantly a troubled expression fell upon his own face.
“You know who it is from, I see, Esther.”
“Yes—from—our master.”
Though the manner was halting, she met his gaze with modest sincerity. Slowly his chin sank into the roll of flesh puffed out under it like a cushion.
“You love him, Esther,” he said, quietly.
“Yes,” she answered.