“It will burn there till I die, and after death it will still live on.... Nay,” he said, as he saw the swift blush mantle Hyacintha’s cheek--“nay, I would not awaken in you one troubled thought. I shall never possess you, but the love I bear you is deathless. I seem to see in the future a land more beautiful than mortal eye has ever looked upon, and there something tells me I shall find you, my beautiful one, in garments whiter even than that you now wear, and bought for you by the Innocent who suffered for the guilty.” Claudius, like many another man who has loved as a pure, good man only can love, seemed carried into eloquence by the force of the feeling within him. He knelt for a moment at Hyacintha’s feet, took her hand and kissed it, and the next moment he was gone. The awakening had come for the Vestal on the very eve of her full admission to the duties she had so longed for: that awakening comes to most of us; and there was never a true and good woman who could lightly esteem the devotion of a noble-hearted man. Hyacintha stood leaning against the rock whence the fountain flowed; for a few moments her heart beat fast, and her eyes were dim with unbidden tears, as she thought over all that Claudius had said. He was, indeed, in earnest; truth was written on his fine face; and truth rang out in the tones of his voice. For a few minutes a vague longing possessed her--a longing which could hardly be clothed in words. Then she smiled as she said, softly-- “Good Claudius! Brave, noble Claudius! May he find all the happiness he craves for me!” The two-eared vase was raised by her unfaltering hand, so that not one crystal drop was spilled as she bore it on her stately head, and went down to the gate where the lictors had awaited her coming patiently, wondering much at her long delay. CHAPTER XII. VANISHING. Throughout that day of preparation for the festival, the new priestess was continually thinking of her interview with Claudius on the Cælian Hill. Not even the new dignities which were conferred on her could entirely banish from her mind the words and bearing of the old companion of her childish days in Britain. It was a grand thing to sprinkle with her own hands the sacred shrine and Palladium, to be consecrated solemnly by the priest for all the functions of her office, as she had once been dedicated as a child to be trained to fulfil them. The beautiful new garments of spotless purity were solemnly placed upon her, and when the ceremony was over, and she had rested for a time, Terentia Rufilla led her to her place behind the altar, and gave into her charge the sacred fire, which was to be replenished continually during the silent hours of the night. Then, with a kiss, the Vestal Maxima departed, the temple door was closed, and Hyacintha was alone.