pay
it better.'

She came forth, carefully closed the wicket behind her, and began to
pace in the gallery as though she were alone. Presently she stood to
gaze over the city spread before her, and her eyes rested upon the one
vast building--so it seemed--which covered the Palatine Hill.

'Marcian!'

He drew near. Without looking at him, her eyes still on the distance,
she said in an unimpassioned voice:

'Did you lie to me, or were you yourself deceived?'

'Lady, I know not of what you speak.'

'You know well.' Her dark eyes flashed a glance of rebuke, and turned
scornfully away again. 'But it matters nothing. I sent for you to ask
what more you have to say.'

Marcian affected surprise and embarrassment.

'It was my hope, gracious lady, that some good news awaited me on your
lips. What can I say more than you have already heard from me?'

'Be it so,' was the careless reply. 'I have nothing to tell you except
that Veranilda is not there.' She pointed towards the palace. 'And this
I have no doubt you know.'

'Believe me, O Heliodora,' he exclaimed earnestly, 'I did not. I was
perhaps misled by--'

Her eyes checked him.

'By whom?'

'By one who seemed to speak with honesty and assurance.'

'Let us say, then, that you were misled; whether deceived or not,
concerns only yourself. And so, lord Marcian, having done what I can
for you, though it be little, I entreat your kind remembrance, and God
keep you.'

Her manner had changed to formal courtesy, and, with this dismissal,
she moved away again. Marcian stood watching her for a moment, then
turned to look at the wide prospect. A minute or two passed; he heard
Heliodora's step approaching.

'What keeps you here?' she asked coldly.

'Lady, I am thinking.'

'Of what?'

'Of the day soon to come when Totila will be king in Rome.'

Heliodora's countenance relaxed in a smile.

'Yet you had nothing more to say to me,' she murmured in a significant
tone.

'There were much to say, Heliodora, to one whom I knew my friend. I had
dared to think you so.'

'What proof of friendship does your Amiability ask?' inquired the lady
with a half-mocking, half-earnest look.

As if murmuring to himself, Marcian uttered the name 'Veranilda.'

'They say she is far on the way to Constantinople,' said Heliodora. 'If
so, and if Bessas sent her, his craft is greater than I thought. For I
have spoken with him, and'--she smiled--'he seems sincere when he
denied all knowled