She was conducted by a lictor to the gate of the garden, where we saw her as a child, and went with the swift light foot of a young fawn to the spring on the Cælian Hill. She carried the two-eared vase or jug gracefully poised on her head, and she was leaning against the rock whence the spring flowed, the very type of youthful beauty and radiant health. The dim shadows of the vestals’ house had left her untouched; no damp had been enough to steal the rose-colour from her cheeks, nor the lustre from her beautiful eyes. She was indeed a vision of loveliness, and the tall athletic soldier who, scaling the hill, came all unawares upon her, as Ebba had done years before, might be forgiven, if, with a sudden start, he drew back, and exclaimed-- “The goddess herself, methinks!” He was about to bend the knee before Hyacintha, when he suddenly drew himself erect, and contenting himself with taking off his heavy helmet, he stood, with bowed head, transfixed. Hyacintha’s cheeks grew crimson, her lips parted as if to speak, but no sound came. The long years which lay between her and the home of her childhood seemed bridged over. Memories of all that had passed in the little upper chamber at Verulam came thronging back, words spoken there, a promise made, all flashed upon her, and then with a voice that was like sound of silvery music, she said-- “Claudius! it is indeed Claudius!” “Even so, fair and beautiful lady,” the soldier said. “I am Claudius, and had I not renounced the worship of the false gods, I should lie prostrate at your feet, and do you sacrifice.” “Nay, do not speak like that, good Claudius,” Hyacintha said. “I pray you, let me hear if you bring me news from Verulam.” “I have seen much foreign service since I left Verulam,” Claudius said; “I have led a battalion against the northern tribes. I have won my way, and I am now in Rome the commander of a legion of fine troops. Where is Casca?” “Alas! he left Rome some years ago. He is, or was, when last I had tidings of him, at Alexandria, whither he accompanied Ezra and the faithful Ebba. My brother and Ebba are both Christians. Alas, that I should say it!” “I well know that Ebba is a Christian,” Claudius said; “you have heard that I fulfilled my vow to you, and saved the British slave’s life?” “Ah, yes! ah, yes! good Claudius, I thank you. Ebba has told me of the noble deed, and Casca, too, has spoken of you. But I have seen neither of them for years. I thank you now for your deed of valour, good Claudius.” As she stood in the light of the early morning, Claudius could not have drawn nearer or taken her hand in his. An invisible but strong barrier seemed to keep him back. “My father,” she asked, “is there news of him? I know my mother is dead, and the little Livia also. These tidings were brought me by Caius, whose galley has been several times to Londinium since those far-off days, when he brought us hither, Casca and me.”