"You have done nothing to offend him," answered Neva: "oh no; it is not his wrath that we fear! It is, that the sight of your beauty might inflame his love. Therefore was it that Ardaric, who loves your Theodore, so strongly counselled that you should hold the semblance of sickness as long as may be."
Ildica sank back upon the cushions that supported her, and hid her pale face in her hands, as if the doom of death had been pronounced in her ear. Terror overcame every reasoning power for some moments, and it seemed as if the fate which had been spoken of as merely possible, was certain and inevitable; and with her hands covering her face and her bosom heaving with convulsive sobs, she sat for several moments in silence; while Neva, alarmed by the state into which her words cast her, tried, by every kindly effort, to sooth and reassure her.
At length the fair Roman suddenly removed her hands, exclaiming, "I had forgot myself, Neva! and had given way to terror, a feeling that should have no empire in my bosom. I do not, I will not fear this man, terrible as he is. I will hide myself from his eyes most willingly. Till Theodore comes back, I will never leave my tent: but if my evil fate should draw his looks upon me; if what you fear on my account should occur, he shall find that the daughter of a Roman can act a Roman's part. No, I will not leave this tent till Theodore returns."
"Alas! dearest Ildica," replied Neva, "ere two days be over you will be forced to leave it. Attila has ravaged all this part of the country: these plains, so fertile and so populous not a fortnight since, when we first issued forth from the mountains and encamped a two days' journey from Tridentum, are now as bare as the summit of the Alps, and not a human being save the followers of the mighty king can be seen for miles around. The white bones of the Romans who have been slain, indeed, whiten the ground; and troops of wolves have followed us from the mountains, as if they had been called by the voice of Attila himself to the feast he fails not to prepare for them; but nothing living and breathing is to be seen but ourselves and those fierce beasts; and the day after to-morrow we are appointed to march on and carry the same bloody scourge, the same fiery sword, farther into the empire."
Ildica looked up towards the sky. "Oh God!" she murmured, "must such things be? Hast thou no chosen instrument, as in the days of old, to check the ravager in his course, to smite the mighty murderer of nations?" and, clasping her hands together, she fixed her eyes upon the ground, falling into a long, intense fit of gloomy meditation.
"It is strange," she continued, when, rousing herself at length from her revery, she found Neva still sitting beside her in silence, and gazing anxiously upon her--"it is very strange! But who can tell the purpose of the Almighty? who can see into the wise counsels of the Omniscient? who can tell at what trifling stumbling block this great conqueror may fall down, or what small and insignificant means may, in the hand of God, bring all his sanguinary expeditions to an end?"
"I do believe," said Neva, "that when he killed my father, Bleda, I should have slain him myself if I had ever been within arm's length of him, and alone. But he is much loved by his own people, and they keep a watch for him; and now he has been kind to me, and wiped out the memory of my father's death by tenderness and affection both to my mother and myself."
"No personal revenge," said Ildica, thoughtfully, "can ever justify us in shedding a human being's blood--at least I think so, Neva; but in our own defence, or in the defence of those we love, or of our country, or our faith, surely, surely God, the God of Hosts, will hallow and sanctify the deed. I think so, Neva, I believe so, but I will meditate upon it: I will inquire from the only source where we can find sure guidance."
"Where is that?" demanded Neva.
"In the word of God," answered Ildica, abstractedly, and again she fell into a fit of meditation, from which her fair companion did not choose to rouse her. At length Ildica woke up of herself, and the sort of shadowy gloom which had hung upon her seemed in a degree banished by reflection; for when she looked up, a smile, faint and chastened indeed, but still most beautiful, played upon her lip for a moment.