“By the voice of the majority, and by the dying desire expressed again and again by the late Vestal Maxima, Terentia Rufilla, Hyacintha Severa was elected to succeed her. There was none so fitted as she was; her rank, as the daughter of a noble house, so high; her accomplishments and graces of mind and body so rare. But there never was a creature like her who did not provoke jealousy and ill-will in some minds. Evil tongues have set afloat rumours concerning her, which, though at first none heeded, have been like fertile seed cast here and there, and at last taking root.
“It is not possible for me to see her. Some of the evil rumours say that she has desired to renounce her vow, and, becoming a Christian, be free to marry. Were I to present myself at the Vestals’ atrium it might fasten the charge of aspiring to her on me, and add to her trouble. Her rule, as those who know it well declare, has been marked by its wonderful wisdom. The young disciples well-nigh worship her, the priests consult her on every matter connected with the sacred rites. The one who works the mischief is the daughter of a princely house, who desires the highest office.
“Finding all other accusations fail, she now insinuates that the Vestal Maxima is a Christian in disguise, and that she merits the death of the faithless virgin.”
“Oh! may God forbid,” exclaimed Anna—“oh! may the Lord protect my mistress.”
“I think,” Claudius continued, “that they will be saved the trouble of condemning her. The last time I saw her leading the procession along the Sacred Way, she looked so wan and ill, and she leaned so heavily on the shoulder of one of the young priestesses, and the expression of her beautiful eyes as she turned them upon me was so mournful that——”
Claudius stopped; emotion checked him.
“Is there aught that I can do,” Casca asked, starting up; “aught to relieve the burden which lies upon my sister! Tell me, Claudius, is there a way to help her?”
“It was to beg you to start for Rome for her solace and comfort that I journeyed hither,” Claudius said.
“I will start willingly,” Casca exclaimed, “and take Anna and my little one with me. Surely the touch of her sweet kisses, the sound of her merry laughter, will do much to console my sister! Yes; we will return together, good Claudius. Shall it be next month?”
“Nay, next month may be too late; the journey is long; set forth without delay, or it may be too late—too late,” he repeated.