thrown open for the sunshine to
rest upon its pallid antiquity, again had this chamber won a place in
human hearts, witnessed the birth of joy and hope, blended itself with
the destiny of mortals. He who pictured Paris dreamt not of these
passionate lips and their unborn language, knew not that he wrought for
a world hidden so far in time. Though his white-limbed goddess fade
ghostlike, the symbol is as valid as ever. Did not her wan beauty smile
youthful again in the eyes of these her latest worshippers?

And they went forth among the painted pillars, once more shunning each
other's look. It was some minutes before Cecily knew that her fingers
still crushed the spray of maidenhair; then she touched it gently, and
secreted it within her glove. It must be dead when she reached home,
but that mattered nothing; would it not remain the sign of something
deathless?

She believed so. In her vision the dead city had a new and wonderful
life; it lay glorious in the light of heaven, its strait ways fit for
the treading of divinities, its barren temples reconsecrate with song
and sacrifice. She believed there was that within her soul which should
survive all change and hazard--survive, it might be, even this warm
flesh that it was hard not to think immortal.

She sought Miriam's side, took her hand, held it playfully as they
walked on together.

"Why do you look at me so sadly, Miriam?"

"I did not mean to."

"Yet you do. Let me see you smile once to-day."

But Miriam's smile was sadder than her grave look.

CHAPTER X

THE DECLARATION

It was true enough that Clifford Marsh would have relished an
invitation to accompany that party of four to Pompeii. For one thing,
he was beginning to have a difficulty in passing his days; if the
present state of things prolonged itself, his position might soon
resemble that of Mr. Musselwhite. But chiefly would he have welcomed
the prospect of spending some hours in the society of Miss Doran, and
under circumstances which would enable him to shine. Clifford had begun
to nurse a daring ambition. Allowing his vanity to caress him into the
half-belief that he was really making a noble stand against the
harshness of fate, he naturally spent much time in imagining how other
people regarded him--above all, what figure he made in the eyes of Miss
Doran. There could be no doubt that she knew, at all events, the main
items of his story; was it not certain that they must make some ap