it having been constructed a hundred years ago for the lady Faltonia Proba, who wrote verses, and perhaps on that account desired a special privacy.  Though much neglected, the building had beauty of form, and was full of fine work in mosaic.  Here, in a little peristyle, where shrubs and creepers had come to wild growth, the sore-hearted lady sat brooding or paced backwards and forwards, her eyes ever on the ground.  When yet a maiden she had several times spent summer at Surrentum; her memory revived that early day which seemed so long ago; she lived again with her brothers and sisters, all dead, with her mother whom griefs had aged so soon.  Then came a loveless marriage, which soon involved her in the public troubles of the time; for her husband, whose estates lay in Tuscany, was robbed of all by Theodahad, and having vainly sought redress from the young King Athalaric, decided to leave Italy for Byzantium, to which end Aurelia sold a property in Campania, her dower.  Before they could set forth upon their journey, her husband caught the plague and died.  In second wedlock she would have known contentment but for the alienation of her kin and the scornful hostility of all her class.  When widowhood again befell her she was saved from want by a small treasure of money which remained hidden in the dwelling at Cumae when the Gothic warrior, her lord, escaped from Belisarius.  As this store diminished, Aurelia had looked forward with dread, for she hoped nothing from her father.  And now that such fears seemed to be over, her long tortured pride clamoured for solace.  It was not enough to regain her father’s love and enjoy an inheritance; she wished to see her enemies at her feet, and to trample upon them—­her enemies being not only Petronilla and certain other kinsfolk but all the nobility of Rome, nay, all the orthodox of the Christian church.  Pacing, pacing alone, she brooded vast schemes of vengeance.

When it was announced to her that the Roman deacon besought an interview, she at first refused to receive him.  Thereupon Leander sent her a few lines in writing, most ceremoniously worded, in which he declared that his purposes were those of a disinterested friend, that no word such as could pain or offend her would pass his lips, and that he had it in his power to communicate something which would greatly benefit her.  Aurelia reflected disdainfully, but at length consented to the churchman’s approach.  Leander’s bearing as he entered her presence was as elaborately courteous as the phrasing of his letter.

‘Noble lady,’ he began, standing with bowed head, ’let not your eyes take note of my garb.  See in me only a devoted servant of your illustrious house.  His Magnificence, your father, assured of the sincerity wherewith I place at his command such powers and opportunities as I owe to heaven’s grace, has deigned to confide in me regarding the disposition of his worldly affairs whereto he is prompted by languishing health.’