It was a charming picture, very artistic, and finely executed, while the subject was one that appealed strongly to the tenderest sentiments of the human heart.
But the face of the woman who was gazing upon it was deathly white. She was motionless as a statue, and seemed to have forgotten time, place, and her surroundings, as she drank in with her wonderful eyes the scene before her.
"It is the wall upon the Appian Way in Rome," she breathed at last, with a long-drawn sigh.
"You are right, madam," responded a voice close at hand, the sound of which caused the woman to press her clasped hands hard upon her heaving bosom, though she gave no other sign of being startled.
The next moment she turned and faced the speaker.
It was Gerald Goddard.
"I heard no one approaching—I thought I was alone," she said, as she lifted those wonderful eyes of hers to his.
He shrank from her glance as under a lightning flash that had burst upon him unawares.
But quickly recovering himself, he courteously remarked:
"Pardon me—I trust I have not startled you."