the gates of Secundus, where two wretched slaves hung upon the cross, whose faint moans showed that life was not yet extinct.

It was early dawn, and the sun had not yet risen, but in the neighbouring villa the sound of voices showed that the slaves were out for the day's labour. The villa of Labeo, on the contrary, was all silent, and no one was visible except one figure under the portico.

This was the mistress of the house, a lady of exquisite beauty, who was yet in the bloom of her youth. Her manner indicated extreme agitation and impatience. She would pace the portico in a restless way for a time, and then, hastening down the steps to the terrace, she would look eagerly along the public road as though awaiting some one.

At length her suspense ended. The sound of horse's feet came from afar, and soon a single rider came galloping rapidly along. He turned in to the gateway, ran up the avenue, and in a few minutes more had reached the house. The lady had hurried down as soon as she saw him, and stood waiting for him, and encountered him in the avenue. The rider leaped from his horse and carelessly let him go. The lady seized both his hands in a strong, nervous grasp; and, in a voice which expressed the deepest agitation, she asked, hurriedly,

"Well, what news?"

She spoke in Greek. For a moment the other did not reply, but looked at her with a troubled face, which he vainly tried to render calm.

There was a strong likeness between the two as they stood thus, looking at one another-the likeness of brother and sister. In both there were the same refined and intellectual features of the purest Greek type, the same spiritual eye and serene forehead. But in the woman it was softened by her feminine nature; in the man in had been expanded into the strongest assertion of intellectual force.

"My sweet sister," he said at last, speaking also in Greek, with a purity of accent that could only have been acquired by a residence under the shadow of the Athenian Acropolis-" my sweet sister, there is no reason for such agitation. I have heard nothing directly; but I firmly believe Labeo to be safe." "You have heard nothing," she repeated, breathlessly. "What am I to do?"

"Yes, dearest; I have heard good news and bad news, but nothing from Labeo. But you are so nervous that I am afraid to say anything. Come," and, taking her hand affectionately, he walked with her toward the portico.

Helena, do you think you can bear what I have to tell?" he asked, as they stood there together.

She looked up at his anxious face, and pressed her hand to her heart with a quick gesture. Then she replied, in a voice of forced calmness,

Cineas, suspense is worse than anything. Tell me exactly what you have heard. Don't conceal anything. I want to know the very worst, whatever it is."

After a brief pause, Cineas said,"Helena, you are right. Suspense is the worst. I have nothing to tell you which you may not know. I know, too, your strength of character, and I solemnly declare that I will not conceal anything from you. At the same time I want you to see things as they really are, and not sink at once into despair. Recall for a moment the last letter which you received from Lucius. How long ago was it?"

"I have not heard from Lucius for more than two months," said Helena; 66 ever since they moved away from London to Camulodune to prepare for that fatal march to Mona. Lucius spoke very joyously, told about the Druids and their cruel rites, praised the ability of Suetonius, and filled his letter with praises of his genial friend Agricola, who was his tent companion."

"You know that Suetonius is one of the best generals in the army-perhaps the very best after Corbulo."

"Yes," sighed Helena.

"You know, too, that his lieutenants are all men of vigour and bravery; and his selection of such men as Agricola and Lucius for his aids shows his shrewdness and perception." "True, Cineas."

"Well, think on this now," said Cineas, in a voice which he meant to be cheerful. "The only danger which you can fear is disaster to that army. No tidings have come from it for some time. But such a general as Suetonius can scarcely be in danger of disaster. The reason why we have not heard is because the Britons have been rising in insurrection in his rear, and breaking off his communications."

Helena said nothing, but looked at her brother with unchanged sadness.

"We ought, then, to believe that Suetonius will shortly emerge from the gloom, and shatter the barbarian power to pieces."

"Yes; but you have not yet told me the last news from Britain, and how do I know what to believe or think?" said Helena, anxiously.

"Because I wished you to bear this in mind,—that, whatever has happened, the army is safe, and so is Labeo. Suetonius will appear with his legions, and take revenge."

"O Cineas, keep me no longer in suspense!" said Helena, in a tremulous voice. “Tell all-all. This suspense will kill me. Let me know the very worst."

My dearest sister," said Cineas, in a voice which he vainly endeavoured to render calm, "the whole of Britain is in arms against the Romans."

Helena turned pale as death, and staggered back a few paces; but Cineas caught her hands and held them in his.

66 Can

you

bear to hear more?" he asked anxiously.

66

'All,” replied the other, in a whisper.

"The whole island is at their mercy. Their leader is

Boadicea."

"Boadicea!"

"The same."

"The one who has suffered such wrongs! Just Heaven!"

"The very same.

She has roused all the tribes to madness,

and they follow her wherever she leads."

"Oh!" cried Helena, "what vengeance will be sufficient for such wrongs as hers!" She clasped her hands in agony. "No resistance-no-none-can it be possible, and Suetonius is in Mona! And all the province is exposed to her fury!"

Cineas said nothing, and his silence gave assent.

"Tell all," said Helena, coming up more closely to him. "All-what of the colonies?"

"Camulodune has been taken."

"What of the inhabitants?"

"Every soul has perished."

Helena gave a groan, and clung to Cineas for support. He caught her, and prevented her from falling.

"Boadicea knows no mercy, and shows none," he went on to say: "with her two daughters she fires the hearts of her followers to every outrage. You can imagine all. But I will tell all the particulars that I have learned. Yet remember that, whatever I may tell you, Labeo is safe.

"It appears that the chief vengeance of the Britons was directed against Camulodune. The conduct of the veterans there toward the natives had produced this result. I need not remind you what that conduct was. The worst excesses of Roman soldiers elsewhere were surpassed here. The place had but a handful of soldiers when the natives rose in rebellion. Alarm and panic spread through the city when they heard the The story that has come here relates a great number of supernatural incidents, which I will tell you so as to give it to

news.

you exactly as I have heard it.

They were these:-The statue
Women rushed frantically

of Victory fell down without cause. about, and announced impending ruin. In the council-chamber voices were heard with the British accent; the theatre was filled with savage howlings; the image of a colony in ruins was seen in the water near the mouth of the Thames; the sea was purple with blood; and at the ebb of the tide human figures were traced in the sand.

"All these portents were described to one another among the people of both races, with many other exaggerations. The colonists were filled with despair, and the Britons with triumph. The people of Camulodune sent off to Catus Decianus, the procurator, for a reinforcement. He sent about two hundred poorly-armed men. The veterans in Camulodune managed badly. The people became panic-stricken; and in the midst of this the Britons took the town, put all to the sword, and finally captured the temple, where a resistance had been made. A few fugitives escaped, and carried the awful tidings to London."

Helena had remained perfectly silent during this narrative, listening with feverish and breathless interest.

"I cannot understand," she said, at last, "how our soldiers were so badly managed. It gives small hope to me," she added, in a faint voice.

"Petilius Cerealis marched with the ninth legion to the relief of the place," continued Cineas; "but he was routed. The infantry were cut to pieces, and the general escaped with the cavalry only."

Helena looked at her brother with deep and sorrowful meaning.

"O Cineas!"

This was the worst news of all. It seemed like a death-blow to her hopes; for it was not a scattered detachment that had been lost, but an entire legion.