“Attila is in retreat; there has been a battle, with the slaughter of hundreds of thousands, and here is a letter for thee.” It was the one Marius had written from the battle-field. In a few days followed the second from Troyes. It was to Lucia, and she read it as they sat together in the quiet evening. “‘The wound was worse than I knew.’” “I felt sure of that,” said the mother. “‘But I have had tender care and nursing in the house of a Jew called Eleazar, from his wife Miriam and two young Christian captives.’” “In the house of a Jew!” exclaimed Fabricius, doubtfully. “God grant they dealt fairly by him. The Jews have many wrongs to avenge on us and ours.” Lucia read on—“‘I am quite strong again,’” and then she paused a moment before she proceeded, “‘I think I have found the Fountain of Youth, and I hope to bring some drops home to thee.’” “A curious mixture of religions,” said Fabricius. “A Jew, and the old Pagan fountain. What can he mean?” “He means, I suppose,” said Lucia, “that the world around us seems rather old, and that he has found among these new people some freshness of new life.” “I understand,” said Damaris. Lucia read on—“‘Tell my mother of the two young Christian captives, the son and daughter of a king or chieftain from the farthest West, the land of the Scots, Hibernia, the island Rome never conquered. They were kidnapped by British pirates, and bought by the old Jew Eleazar, who, with his wife Miriam, lives at Rome, and is taking them thither. They must be ransomed.’” “It seems a very wild story,” said Fabricius. “Are you quite sure it is from Marius?” “Quite sure,” said Lucia; and she resumed, “There is a postscript. He thinks the sister would be delightful to me, and that the brother would be invaluable to our father on his lands among the Sabine hills. There is also a dog, a deer-hound of the purest Scottish breed, that he thinks would be priceless for the chase.” “A wonderful treasure-trove, in good sooth,” said Fabricius, rather grimly. “A dog, two captives to ransom, and a Fountain of Youth.” Afterwards he said to his wife when they were alone, “Dilectissima, understandest thou what this means? Art thou ready to have thy youth renewed by a daughter-in-law from the Scottish wilds?” “We will wait and see,” she replied. “Marius is no dreamer. If he thinks he has found a treasure, I believe he has.” “The Scots are many of them Pelagian heretics,” Fabricius replied, not without malice. “Then we must bring them under the instruction of our Pope Leo,” she said. “We will wait and see.”