Erica and Brian, in the meantime, walked down the steep little path which leads back to the village, on their way encountering a second procession of Brothers bearing a coffin. In a few minutes they had found their way to a quiet garden at the remote end of which, far from the houses of Fiesole and sheltered on all sides by the green Apennines, was an old Roman amphitheatre. Grass and flowers had sprung up now on the arena where in olden times had been fearful struggles between men and beasts. Wild roses and honeysuckle drooped over the gray old building, and in between the great blocks of stone which formed the tiers of seats for the spectators sprung the yellow celandine and the white star of Bethlehem. Erica sat down upon one of the stony seats and began to sketch the outline of the hills and roughly to draw in the foreground the further side of the amphitheatre and broken column which lay in the middle. “Would you mind fetching me some water?” she said to Brian. There was a little trickling stream close by, half hidden by bramble bushes. Brian filled her glass and watched her brush as she washed in the sky. “Is that too blue, do you think?” she asked, glancing up at him with one of her bright looks. “Nothing could be too deep for such a sky as this,” he replied, half absently. Then, with a sudden change of tone, “Erica, do you remember the first day you spoke to me?” “Under murky London skies very unlike these,” she said, laughing a little, but nervously. “You mean the day when our umbrellas collided!” “You mustn't abuse the murky skies,” said Brian, smiling. “If the sun had been shining, the collision would never have occurred. Oh, Erica! What a life time it seems since that day in Gower Street! I little thought then that I should have to wait more than seven years to tell you of my love, or that at last I should tell you in a Roman amphitheatre under these blue skies. Erica, I think you have known it of late. Have you, my darling? Have you known how I loved you?” “Yes,” she said, looking down at her sketch book with glowing cheeks. “Oh! If you knew what a paradise of hope you opened to me that day last December and how different life has been ever since! Those were gray years, Erica, when I dared not even hope to gain your love. But lately, darling, I have hoped. Was I wrong?” “No,” she said with a little quiver in her voice. “You will love me?” She looked up at him for a moment in silence, a glorious light in her eyes, her whole face radiant with joy. “I do love you,” she said softly. He drew nearer to her, held both her hands in his, waiting only for the promise which would make her indeed his own. “Will you be my wife, darling?” But the words had scarcely passed his lips when a look of anguish swept over Erica's face; she snatched away her hands. “Oh! God help me!” she cried. “What have I done? I've been living in a dream! It's impossible, Brian! Impossible!” A gray look came over Brian's face.