Years had gone by when， one evening， Aphtanides came in. He had grown tall and slender as a reed， with strong limbs， and a dark， brown skin. He kissed us all， and had so much to tell of what he had seen of the GREat ocean， of the fortifications at Malta， and of the marvellous sepulchres of Egypt， that I looked up to him with a kind of veneration. His stories were as strange as the legends of the priests of olden times.

　　“How much you know！” I exclaimed， “and what wonders you can relate？”

　　“I think what you once told me， the finest of all，” he replied； “you told me of a thing that has never been out of my thoughts—of the good old custom of 'the bond of friendship，'—a custom I should like to follow. Brother， let you and I go to church， as your father and Anastasia's father once did. Your sister Anastasia is the most beautiful and most innocent of maidens， and she shall consecrate the deed. No people have such grand old customs as we GREeks.”

　　Anastasia blushed like a young rose， and my mother kissed Aphtanides.

　　At about two miles from our cottage， where the earth on the hill is sheltered by a few scattered trees， stood the little church， with a silver lamp hanging before the altar. I put on my best clothes， and the white tunic fell in graceful folds over my hips. The red jacket fitted tight and close， the tassel on my Fez cap was of silver， and in my girdle glittered a knife and my pistols. Aphtanides was clad in the blue dress worn by the GREek sailors； on his breast hung a silver medal with the figure of the Virgin Mary， and his scarf was as costly as those worn by rich lords. Every one could see that we were about to perform a solemn ceremony. When we entered the little， unpretending church， the evening sunlight streamed through the open door on the burning lamp， and glittered on the golden picture frames. We knelt down together on the altar steps， and Anastasia drew near and stood beside us. A long， white garment fell in graceful folds over her delicate form， and on her white neck and bosom hung a chain entwined with old and new coins， forming a kind of collar. Her black hair was fastened into a knot， and confined by a headdress formed of gold and silver coins which had been found in an ancient temple. No Greek girl had more beautiful ornaments than these. Her countenance glowed， and her eyes were like two stars. We all three offered a silent prayer， and then she said to us， “Will you be friends in life and in death？”

　　“Yes，” we replied.

　　“Will you each remember to say， whatever may happen， 'My brother is a part of myself； his secret is my secret， my happiness is his； self-sacrifice， patience， everything belongs to me as they do to him？' ”

　　And we again answered， “Yes.” then she joined out hands and kissed us on the forehead， and we again prayed silently. After this a priest came through a door near the altar， and blessed us all three. Then a song was sung by other holy men behind the altar-screen， and the bond of eternal friendship was confirmed. When we arose， I saw my mother standing by the church door， weeping.

　　How cheerful everything seemed now in our little cottage by the Delphian springs！ On the evening before his departure， Aphtanides sat thoughtfully beside me on the slopes of the mountain. His arm was flung around me， and mine was round his neck. We spoke of the sorrows of GREece， and of the men of the country who could be trusted. Every thought of our souls lay clear before us. Presently I seized his hand： “Aphtanides，” I exclaimed， “there is one thing still that you must know，—one thing that till now has been a secret between myself and Heaven. My whole soul is filled with love，—with a love stronger than the love I bear to my mother and to thee.”

　　“And whom do you love？” asked Aphtanides. And his face and neck GREw red as fire.

　　“I love Anastasia，” I replied.

　　then his hand trembled in mine， and he became pale as a corpse. I saw it， I understood the cause， and I believe my hand trembled too. I bent towards him， I kissed his forehead， and whispered， “I have never spoken of this to her， and perhaps she does not love me. Brother， think of this； I have seen her daily， she has grown up beside me， and has become a part of my soul.”

　　“And she shall be thine，” he exclaimed； “thine！ I may not wrong thee， nor will I do so. I also love her， but tomorrow I depart. In a year we will see each other again， but then you will be married； shall it not be so？ I have a little gold of my own， it shall be yours. You must and shall take it.”

　　We wandered silently homeward across the mountains. It was late in the evening when we reached my mother's door. Anastasia held the lamp as we entered； my mother was not there. She looked at Aphtanides with a sweet but mournful expression on her face. “To-morrow you are going to leave us，” she said. “I am very sorry.”

　　“Sorry！” he exclaimed， and his voice was troubled with a grief as deep as my own. I could not speak； but he seized her hand and said， “Our brother yonder loves you， and is he not dear to you？ His very silence now proves his affection.”

　　Anastasia trembled， and burst into tears. then I saw no one， thought of none， but her. I threw my arms round her， and pressed my lips to hers. As she flung her arms round my neck， the lamp fell to the ground， and we were in darkness， dark as the heart of poor Aphtanides.

　　Before daybreak he rose， kissed us all， and said “Farewell，” and went away. He had given all his money to my mother for us. Anastasia was betrothed to me， and in a few days afterwards she became my wife.