CHAPTER XX.
AMONG THE HUNS—LEO AND ATTILA.
But in the midst of the tide of universal rejoicing (as in the midst of the malaria of almost universal corruption), one little fresh spring of pure and tender joy had burst forth for the household on the Aventine. The ocean tide might and did ebb back from high-water mark; but when it receded, a little fountain of sweet fresh water was found welling up from other depths below earth and sea, as sometimes on the shores of our western seas.
Slowly, with the uncertain gait of one toiling up from the ravine of the shadow of death, Marius was creeping up the Aventine, almost spent with fatigue. Ethne saw him first from the terrace above the gardens. In a moment she was at his side, and they were climbing the hill together, those two who were thenceforth to make their uphill journey together all the way.
For a moment he clasped her to his heart.
“It is through thee I am here,” he said, “through thee that I ever came back at all. It is thou who hast given me back my life.”
She could only murmur a few words of Patrick’s hymn, and then, “I always knew He would bring thee back;” and again accepting her support for his feeble steps, they moved on till he reached the familiar portico with her.