The simple honesty of Veranilda’s nature would not allow her to disguise what she thought.  Urging question after question, with ardour irresistible, Basil learnt all she had been told by Marcian concerning Heliodora, and, having learnt it, confessed the whole truth in utter frankness, in the plain, blunt words dictated by his loathing of the Greek woman with whom he had once played at love.  And, as she listened, Veranilda’s heart grew light; for the time before her meeting with Basil seemed very far away, and the tremulous passion in his voice assured her of all she cared to know, that his troth pledged to her had never suffered wrong.  Basil spoke on and on, told of his misery in Rome whilst vainly seeking her; how he was baffled and misled; how at length, in despair, he left the city and went to his estate by Asculum.  Then of the message received from Marcian, and how eagerly he set forth to cross the Apennines, resolved that, if he could not find Veranilda, at least he would join himself with her people and fight for their king; of his encounter with the marauding troop, his arrival, worn and fevered, at Aesernia, his meeting with Sagaris, their interview, and what followed upon it.

’To this hour I know not whether the man told me what he believed, or coldly lied to me.  He has the face of a villain and may well have behaved as one—­who knows with what end in view?  Could I but lay hands upon him, I would have the truth out of his tongue by torture.  He is in Rome.  I saw him come forth from Marcian’s house, when I was there on the king’s service; but, of course, I could not speak with him.’

Veranilda had seated herself within the portico.  Basil stood before her, ever and again meeting her eyes as she looked up.

‘Just as little,’ he resumed after a pause of troubled thought, ’can I know whether Marcian believed me a traitor, or himself had a traitorous mind.  The more I think, the less do I understand him.  I hope, I hope with all my heart, that he was innocent, and daily I pray for his eternal welfare.’

‘That is well done, O Basil,’ said the listener, for the first time uttering his name.  ’My prayers, too, he shall have.  That he was so willing to credit ill of you, I marvel; and therein he proved himself no staunch friend.  But of all else, he was guiltless.’

‘So shall he ever live in my memory,’ said Basil.  ’Of him I always found it easier to believe good than evil, for many were the proofs he had given me of his affection.  Had it been otherwise, I should long before have doubted him; for, when I was seeking you in Rome, more than once did a finger point to Marcian, as to one who knew more than he would say.  I heard the accusation with scorn, knowing well that they who breathed it desired to confound me.’