Hyacintha’s was one of those pure and noble natures to whom service is a necessity, and who can know no selfish and ignoble aims. There was never a little disciple in distress about a torn garment or a neglected lesson but she came to Hyacintha for help. There was not wanting the mean spirit of jealousies amongst the vestals; bitter tongues were often in motion; rivalries, and anxieties for the best places at the games, and for notice from those in power were rife; the choicest viands at the table were eagerly sought; and the weariness and lassitude which are born of the service which is not heart-service, and therefore becomes drudgery, continually produced ill-temper, which is so often the outcome of discontent. It was rare, indeed, to find Hyacintha cross or angry; she bore and forbare, and won her way through all the trials of her surroundings with a wonderful patience. Her relationship to Terentia Rufilla, and the close friendship which existed between them, excited, as was only probable, the envy of many of her companions. But ill-will could not flourish near her. The bright serenity of her nature triumphed over every obstacle, and, like the sun, dispersed the clouds around her, as day by day she rose higher in the estimation of those with whom she shared the daily routine of the Vestals’ House. That these noble characters were by no means uncommon in the days of which I write is beyond a question. They shine out amongst the records of those times like stars in the firmament, and many women like Hyacintha Severa have, when converted to the faith of Christ, shown that they were true as steel and steadfast as a rock, and glad to suffer and to die for the name of Christ. The fountain rippled, and the falling of the water made a low, monotonous murmur; the sun rising above the hills turned every dew-drop into a diamond, and lay upon the turf, which was jewelled with flowers in golden bands. Hyacintha stood lost in meditation, Claudius watching her. He drew a step nearer, and she started, as if from a happy dream; then he spoke in low, earnest tones. “Hyacintha, would that I could think you knew in whom you believe. Sweet friend, I will pray for you, and my prayers--rough and untaught soldier as I am--ascending continually, will be heard. I would not hurt a hair of your head,” he continued, earnestly. “I would not even bring the shadow of a cloud over you. I know that you have vowed to give up all loves of earth, and that the vow you have taken is the vow for life. Were you other than what you are, I might tell you of the love I bear you--a love which has kept me in the thickest onslaught of temptation! As you keep the sacred fire on the altar, so have I kept this love for you in my heart.