"I remember it well," replied Eudora: "Dione told it to me when I was quite a child; and I could never after see a tree torn by the lightning, or carried away by the flood, or felled by the woodman, without a shrinking and shivering feeling, lest some gentle, fair-haired Dryad had perished with it."
Philothea answered, "Thus was I affected, when my grandfather first read to me Hesiod's account of the Muses:
'Far round, the dusky earth
Rings with their hymning voices; and beneath
Their many-rustling feet a pleasant sound
Ariseth, as they take their onward way
To their own father's presence.'
"I never after could hear the quivering of summer leaves, or the busy hum of insects, without thinking it was the echoed voices of those
'Thrice three sacred maids, whose minds are knit
In harmony; whose only thought is song.'
"There is a deep and hidden reason why the heart loves to invest every hill, and stream, and tree, with a mysterious principle of life. All earthly forms are but the clothing of some divine ideal; and this truth we feel, though we know it not. But when I spoke of Arcus and the Wood Nymph, I was thinking that Paralus had been the tree, on whose existence my own depended; and that now he was removed, I should not long remain."
Eudora burst into a passionate flood of tears. "Oh, dearest Philothea, do not speak thus," she said. "I shall indeed be left alone in the world. Who will guide me, who will protect me, who will love me when you are gone?"
Her friend endeavoured to calm these agitated feelings, by every soothing art her kindness could suggest.
"I would rather suffer much in silence, than to give you unnecessary pain," she replied, affectionately: "but I ought not to conceal from you that I am about to follow my beloved husband. In a short time, I shall not have sufficient strength to impart all I have to say. You will find my clothing and jewels done up in parcels, bearing the names of those for whom they are intended. My dowry returns to Chrysippus, who gave it; but Pericles has kindly given permission that everything else should be disposed of according to my own wishes. Several of my grandfather's manuscripts, and a copy of Herodotus, which I transcribed while I was in Ionia, are my farewell gifts to him. When the silver tripod, which Paralus gained as a prize for the best tragedy exhibited during the Dionysia, is returned to his father's house, let them be placed within it. The statue of Persephone, (that ominous bridal gift,) and the ivory lyre bestowed by Aspasia, are placed in his trust for the youthful Pericles; together with all the books and garments that belonged to his departed brother. In token of gratitude for the parental care of Clinias and his wife, I have bestowed on them the rich tripod received from Heliodora. In addition to the trifling memorials I have already sent to Melissa, and her artless little Zoila, you will find others prepared for you to deliver, when restored to your peaceful home in Elis. To my faithful Milza I have given all the garments and household goods suited to her condition. My grandfather's books have been divided, as he requested, between Plato and Philæmon; the silver harp and the ivory tablet are likewise designed for them. Everything else belongs to you, dearest Eudora. Among many tokens of my affection, you will not value least the ivory cup lined with silver, which Philæmon gave me when he departed from Athens. The clasp, representing the Naiades binding Eros in garlands, will, I trust, be worn at your marriage with Philæmon."
With tearful eyes, Eudora answered, "Oh, Philothea! in the days of my pride and gayety, I little knew what a treasure I threw from me, when I lost Philæmon's love. Had it not been for my own perverse folly, I should at this moment be his happy, honoured wife. The hope of his forgiveness is now the only gleam of sunshine in a world of gloom; but I hardly dare to cherish it."