That it was fear, which shook her thus, he could not credit; for during all the fearful sounds and rumours of the past night, she had been as firm as a hero.
Yet he knew not, dared not think, to what other cause he might attribute it.
He spoke to her soothingly, tenderly, but his voice faltered as he spoke.
"Nay! nay! be not alarmed, dear girl!" he said. "The tumults are all, long since, quelled; the danger has [pg 224]all vanished with the darkness, and the storm. Cheer up, my own, sweet, Julia."
And, as he spoke, he passed his arm about her graceful form, and drew her closer to his bosom.
But whether it was this movement, or something in his words that aroused her, she started from his arms in a moment; and stood erect and rigid, pale still and agitated, but no longer trembling. She raised her hands to her brow, and put away the profusion of rich auburn ringlets, which had fallen down dishevelled over her eyes, and gazed at him stedfastly, strangely, as she had never gazed at him before.
"Your own Julia!" she said, in slow accents, scarce louder than a whisper, but full of strong and painful meaning. "Oh! I adjure you, by the Gods! by all you love! or hope! Are you false to me, Paullus!"
"False! Julia!" he exclaimed, starting, and the blood rushing consciously to his bold face.
"I am answered!" she said, collecting herself, with a desperate effort. "It is well—the Gods guard you!—Leave me!"
"Leave you!" he cried. "By earth, and sea, and heaven, and all that they contain! I know not what you mean."