The breast of the lady heaved and fluttered unwontedly; her native characteristics of haughty self‐possession had given way to an unusual tremor and discomposure; and this in the presence of a Centurion only—a simple soldier. She whom the crowd of the highest and mightiest in Rome had dangled around, without causing her cheek to change its hue or her heart to throb a whit the faster. Then, as if a sudden shame for her weakness flashed across her mind, she drew up her ample form, and braced her quivering limbs, at the same time raising her countenance to his with an effort at her accustomed imperious nonchalance. But it proved an empty piece of bravado which she was unable to sustain. The young man, despite his expectant curiosity, remained motionless, cold, and unsympathetic, and she shrank again before him, with trembling joints and down‐dropped head, like a leaping wave from the hard stern face of a rock. The uncertain light was friendly to these signs of perturbation, and shrouded them so far from his observation, as to merely impress his mind with the idea that they were nothing save the symptoms of a little hesitation. A slight noise among the rocks of the hillside struck their ears, and they both turned to listen. ‘What was that?’ she whispered. But all was as quiet as the grave; it might have been nothing but an animal displacing a stone as it prowled in search of prey, and thus Martialis replied. ‘Come more into the shade,’ she said hurriedly, laying her hand once more upon his arm; ‘some chance passer‐by may see us here.’ He followed her a few paces into the shadow of the brushwood which lined the path, and, at the same time, carelessly threw his cloak from his right shoulder, so as to leave his right arm free and unhampered. It was a significant action to the initiated, and seemed to say, that his explanation of the probable cause of the slight noise in the bushes was not exactly in accordance with his inmost conviction. The quick eye and wit of Plautia perceived it, and she said reproachfully, ‘Are you afraid, Centurion? You are armed!’ She had, in passing her hand over the folds of his cloak, felt the hilt of the sword which he held in his grasp underneath. ‘I have a weapon with me, truly,’ he answered; ‘but as to being afraid, I think I may say I am nothing more than cautious, as we soldiers are trained to be. You must surely admit, Plautia, that I am neither blamable nor foolish in preparing myself somewhat; for, when a man receives a request to meet an unknown person, in a mysterious manner, after dark, in an unfrequented spot, he is only acting prudently when he does as I have done. It might have been a throat‐cutting assignation for all that I could tell. There are even some persons who would not, probably, have cared to attend at all.’ ‘But you know now who has brought you—do you think that I would lead you premeditatedly into harm?’