In the sacred Pomœrium, the space marked out by religious rites along the line of the old wall--the ashes of Hyacintha Severa were laid. The High Priest and Council, touched by her loss, refused to acknowledge publicly that she was a Christian. Loved and honoured in her life by many without, as well as by many within the walls of the Vestals’ House, the old High Priest silenced the accusers, and carried the point that the late Vestal Maxima should be honoured in her death, as she had been loved in her life. For the old priest knew that the old faith was vanishing away; knew that the Christians were multiplying daily; knew that even in that community the seed had been sown, which might bring forth fruit, and that Hyacintha would not be the only Christian amongst their numbers. This was no time for suppression by violence or by force; the supporters of the old faith made the lives of the Vestals more and more luxurious, increased their privileges, and the last thirty or forty years of their existence were to all outward seeming their best years. But the faith in the goddess Vesta and the sacred fire which her priestesses were vowed to keep a pure and inextinguishable flame, was even now rotten at its heart. What had once been received with childlike earnestness and simplicity of belief, was now but a hollow profession, and the old faith was dying. Cœlia Concordia held the supreme office of Vestal Maxima for many years. She was a woman of keen intellect, and a great friend, we are told, of the famous champion of Polytheism, Vettius Agorius Prætextatus. Her statue was set up in the house of that nobleman, and he received the unwonted honour of having his raised in the Vestals’ atrium. A powerful, vigorous woman, Cœlia Concordia carried things with a high hand. The little children, timid and tearful in the first few weeks of their discipleship, did not come to her with their sorrows. The maidens confided in her none of their hopes and fears. Cœlia loved the power the office gave her too well to resign it. Strong in body as in mind, she saw her old companions pass away, the children fade and die, the maidens droop and lose their fresh bloom; and she persecuted by a thousand little acts of tyranny two or three whom she suspected of having embraced the Christian faith; and Hermione was one who felt the full bitterness of her satire, and often quailed beneath it. CHAPTER XVI. ONWARD AND UPWARD. When Claudius turned away from the Vestals’ home on the day of Hyacintha’s death, there was in his noble heart only one longing--to follow her whither she was gone. Casca and little Cynthia were his guests, with the faithful Anna; and when Casca spoke of returning to Alexandria, Claudius begged him to delay. It seemed to Claudius like a second parting from the love of his whole life to lose the child who bore her name, and who returned the devotion of the old soldier with a childish affection which was inexpressibly sweet to him.