modest
country house, during the last fifty years an almost total neglect had
made of the greater part an uninhabitable ruin. A score of slaves and
peasants looked after what remained of the dwelling and cultivated the
land attached to it, garden, oliveyard, vineyard, partly on the island,
partly beyond the river in the direction of Arpinum, which historic
city, now but sparsely peopled, showed on the hillside a few miles
away. Excepting his house in Rome, this was all the property that
Marcian possessed. It was dear to him because of the memories of his
childhood, and for another reason which sprang out of the depths of his
being: on the night after his mother's death (he was then a boy much
given to seeing visions) her spirit appeared to him, and foretold that
he too should die in this house 'at peace with God.' This phrase, on
which he had often brooded, Marcian understood to mean that he should
reach old age; and it had long been his settled intention to found in
the ruinous villa a little monastery, to which, when his work was over,
he could retire to pass the close of life. And now, as he rode down
behind the carriage, he was striving to keep his thought fixed on this
pious purpose. He resolved that he would not long delay. As soon as
Veranilda was safe, he would go on foot, as a pilgrim, to the monastery
at Casinum, which were but two or three days' journey, and speak of his
intention to the aged and most holy Benedict. Thus fortified, he rode
with bright visage down into the valley, and over the bridge, and so to
his own gate.

The steward and the housekeeper, who were man and wife, speedily stood
before him, and he bade them make ready with all expedition certain
chambers long unoccupied, merely saying that a lady would for some days
be his guest. Whilst Sagaris guided the horsemen to the stables, and
received them hospitably in the servants' quarter, Marcian, using a
more formal courtesy than hitherto, conducted his charge into the great
hall, and begged her to be seated for a few minutes, until her room was
prepared. Seeing that fatigue scarce suffered her to reply, he at once
withdrew, leaving her alone with her handmaiden. And yet he had not
beheld Veranilda's face.

Himself unable to take repose, he strayed about the purlieus of the
villa, in his ears the sound of rushing water, before his eyes a
flitting vision which he would not see. He had heard from his steward
the latest news of the countryside; it