The awakening had come for the Vestal on the very eve of her full admission to the duties she had so longed for: that awakening comes to most of us; and there was never a true and good woman who could lightly esteem the devotion of a noble-hearted man.
Hyacintha stood leaning against the rock whence the fountain flowed; for a few moments her heart beat fast, and her eyes were dim with unbidden tears, as she thought over all that Claudius had said.
He was, indeed, in earnest; truth was written on his fine face; and truth rang out in the tones of his voice.
For a few minutes a vague longing possessed her—a longing which could hardly be clothed in words. Then she smiled as she said, softly—
“Good Claudius! Brave, noble Claudius! May he find all the happiness he craves for me!”
The two-eared vase was raised by her unfaltering hand, so that not one crystal drop was spilled as she bore it on her stately head, and went down to the gate where the lictors had awaited her coming patiently, wondering much at her long delay.
CHAPTER XII.
VANISHING.
Throughout that day of preparation for the festival, the new priestess was continually thinking of her interview with Claudius on the Cælian Hill. Not even the new dignities which were conferred on her could entirely banish from her mind the words and bearing of the old companion of her childish days in Britain.