“When I look back on the records of the priestesses,” Hyacintha said, “I can but feel that there must be something stronger and more potent than mere will which keeps us so secure. In all the long thousand years that have passed since we were first entrusted with the sacred fire, and Numa built us our first temple, to preserve the palladium of Troy, so few have failed to fulfil their vow. Surely this is a proof that what we profess is the true faith. When I first came hither, and Lucia told me of the punishment which befel the vestals who broke their vow, I dreamed of it, and used to fancy myself thrust into that dungeon to starve--so fearful it is to think of--and yet”----Hyacintha paused. “Tell me what is in thy heart, my daughter; do not be afraid.” “And yet,” Hyacintha continued, “the disciples of the new faith would cheerfully be shut into a dungeon and starved rather than deny the Man of Nazareth whom they worship. It must be a reality to them, though a false mirage to us. Is it not so?” Terentia Rufilla was silent. The young maiden, standing at the eve of her full profession as a priestess of the goddess Vesta, had only given words to thoughts which seemed to crave for expression within her own heart. It must often have been so. The multitude, who knew nothing beyond the old faith, and who were content with the outside show and splendid pageantry that marked a festival like that to be celebrated the next day but one, in honour of Vesta, might be content. But not the earnest, cultivated, highborn woman like Terentia Rufilla, who had read much, and thought much, and had put aside as beneath her consideration the story of the Cross of Christ. Now that the Church of the Catacombs had been able to lift her head, and openly practise the rites and celebrate the worship of the religion of Christ, it was impossible that women like Terentia should fail to consider what was forced upon their attention. For the vestals did not lead a secluded life--the seniors amongst them were well acquainted with what passed in Rome, and it was impossible for them to be ignorant of the rapid advances which Christianity was making. It was all very well for the careless and idle to ignore the fact, and deny that the old temple was in danger, and the old ceremonies growing effete and languishing. To the thoughtful observer, the base and mean, the low and contemptible religion, was growing apace, and its branches were casting their shadows on every side.