nd.

The tears struggled into AEnone's eyes as she gazed upon the token. It
was a poor little silver coin of the time of the first Caesars--one of
the few curiosities of her father's family--and which she had given to
her lover as the most precious thing belonging to her. She remembered
that when, in that last stroll by the shore, she had hung it about his
neck with her own hands, and had made him promise always to keep it, she
had received from him a similar token--a bright silver piece of
Vespasian, and had placed it near her heart, while murmuring similar
vows. He had kept his word, and she had not kept hers. For the moment,
she felt even guilty of bad faith, forgetting that when she afterward
gave her more mature affection to Sergius, it was only her duty to lay
aside all that even whispered of past promises.

'I could not bear to part with it,' he said; 'for it still spoke to me
of her friendship, if not of her love. And a superstitions thought came
into my mind that I might some day see her again, and that, though we
should not meet as lovers, yet she might, perhaps, be pleased to learn
that I had not entirely forgotten her. Would she not, noble lady, do you
think?'

'She does--that is, it surely should so move her,' said AEnone.

'So have I still worn it,' he continued. 'And somehow each day brings
back the recollection of her more faithfully to me. Whether it is
because this other absorbing love is passing from my heart, and leaving
to me greater freedom of thought--or whether it is that Ostia is now so
near to me that I daily hear of it and see its costumes in the streets,
and thus my recollection of the place is kindled anew--or whether it
is--'

'Is what?' said AEnone, encouragingly.

'I know not how to dare say it,' he stammered. 'It is a presumption,
indeed, but I mean it not for such. I would say that there is something
in your face, most noble mistress--a look--a flash of thought--a glance
of the eye--a something I know not what, which reminds me of her whom I
knew so many years ago. So that sometimes, were it not for the
difference of dress and all else around you, so much at variance with
what had been her state, I could almost forget the lapse of years, and
imagine that--Pardon, most noble lady! I meant not to offend!'

For she had arisen; and now, drawn to her full height, was looking down
upon him with all the coldness of patrician dignity that she could
summon to her aid. He, too, arose, and