And wonderful stories went abroad, and women were more sacred in
the eyes of men, seeing that one of them, indeed, must be mother of the
very Son of God."
The slave-girl covered her face and her body shook with emotion.
"Cyran, why are you crying?" said Arria.
"Because," Cyran replied, her voice trembling--"because I can never be
the blessed mother."
"Tell me," said Arria, "have you never felt the great love?"
Cyran rose and looked down at her mistress.
"I have felt the pain of it," said she, sadly. "And my heart--Oh, it
is like the house of mourning where Sorrow has hushed the Children of
Joy. But the sweet pain of love is dear to me."
"Tell me of it."
"Good mistress, I cannot tell you."
"Why, dear Cyran?"
"Because--" the slave-girl hesitated; then timidly and with trembling
lips she whispered, "because, dear mistress, I--I love you." She
seemed to bend beneath her burden and, knelt beside her mistress and
wept.
"Go--please go," said Appius, turning to Cyran. "You irritate me, and
I cannot understand you.
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