er he saw you, a woman beautiful, but evil hearted, her name
Heliodora. She won him back to her; she made him faithless to you and
to the cause of the Goths. Little by little, I learnt how far he had
gone in treachery. He had discovered where you were, but no longer
desired to release you that you might become his wife. To satisfy the
jealousy of Heliodora, and at the same time to please the Greek
commander in Rome, he plotted to convey you to Constantinople. I having
discovered this plot, found a way to defeat it. You escaped but
narrowly. When I carried you away from Praeneste, pursuers were close
behind us, therefore it was that we travelled through the night. Here
you are in safety, for King Totila is close at hand, and will guard you
against your enemies.'

Veranilda pressed her hands upon her forehead, and stood mute. As his
eyes shifted furtively about her, Marcian caught sight of something
black and undulant stirring among stones near her feet; at once he
grasped her by the arm, and drew her towards him.

'A viper!' he exclaimed, pointing.

'What of that?' was her reply, with a careless glance. 'I would not
stir a step to escape its fangs.'

And, burying her face in her hands, she wept.

These tears, this attitude of bewildered grief, were Marcian's
encouragement. He had dreaded the innocence of her eyes lest it should
turn to distrust and rejection. Had she refused to believe him, he knew
not how he would have persisted in his villainy; for, even in
concluding his story, it seemed to him that he must betray himself; so
perfidious sounded to him the voice which he could hardly believe his
own, and so slinking-knavish did he feel the posture of his body, the
movements of his limbs. The distress which should have smitten him to
the heart restored his baser courage. Again he spoke with the sad
gravity of a sympathetic friend.

'Dearest lady, I cannot bid you be comforted, but I entreat you to
pardon me, the hapless revealer of your misfortune. Say only that you
forgive me.'

'What is there to forgive?' she answered, checking her all but silent
sobs. 'You have told what it behoved you to tell. And it may be'--her
look changed of a sudden--'that I am too hasty in embracing sorrow. How
can I believe that Basil has done this? Are you not misled by some
false suspicion? Has not some enemy slandered him to you? What can you
say to make me credit a thing so evil?'

'Alas! It were but too easy for me to lengthen