In the gallery, which I have before described, at the top of the villa, he found Hyacintha. She was looking out over the country, as she had looked with Ebba two days before. When Claudius stood by her side she raised her pure, sweet eyes to his, and said, “I have been here whilst thou hast been talking to Casca. I wanted to speak to you, so I waited here. I am only a child, and I scarcely know which way I should turn to find the good and forsake the evil, but this I know, Ebba was good--faithful and good--and I dread lest she should be cruelly killed. Claudius,” the child continued, pleading with her eyes as with her voice, “Claudius, will you try to save her if by any means she falls in your way? If the Christians are found out she will be found with them. Do your utmost to save her life, my noble, good Ebba.” “Beautiful Hyacintha,” Claudius said, “I would serve you to my last breath. Yes, I swear if I can find any trace of Ebba, I will strive to save her life and put her in a place of safety till the storm has passed over.” “They have been talking of getting her head, and that of Amphibalus, the man Alban hid in his house, and they have missed another woman, who was aunt or mother to the soldier who would not kill Alban. There is a boy who dresses the flowers and shrubs in the atrium, and he has told me that it is said in Verulam that the Christians have hidden themselves not far off, and a watch is set on the hills to hinder their escape to Wales. That is what is said. I know not if it be true.” “True or false, I will obey thy bidding. Say, Hyacintha, what shall we do without thee.” “Without _me_!” the child repeated. “Ah! I do not think any one wants me here. My mother will have the little Livia from the nurse. She is the child of my uncle Fabius, and the adopted daughter of my father. She is very beautiful, and my mother can pet her, and toy with her, and will love to hear the praises which her loveliness will win. And when my father’s service is over in Britain they will all return to Rome, and I shall greet them there, when I am a priestess, and I shall greet thee also, Claudius.” “Nay,” said the boy, “thou wilt forget the poor half-Briton, half-Roman, when thou art a grand priestess, wearing the white stole.” “Forget! nay, I shall never forget--how can I forget? And when I have to tend the fire in the great temple at night, and the stars look down at me, and the wind whispers low, I shall pray that the goddess may bless thee, Claudius, and keep ever in thy heart a pure bright flame of love to the city of Verulam first, and of Rome after, and that thou wilt remember little Hyacintha.” “I will remember thee through life till death,” the young man said. “I will worship thee from afar, and, perchance, I may come to Rome only to behold thee, as I behold a star in the heavens, who blesses me with its beams, though I can never attain to it.”