had gone. Some thought that she had gone
on a journey to a villa which she possessed in Sicilia, others thought
that she was living a life of retirement in a lonely dwelling on the
Sabine Hills, preparatory to devoting her virginity to the glory of
Vesta.

Caius Julius Caesar Caligula prepared to have her sought for throughout
the length and breadth of his Empire, and would no doubt have succeeded
in time in this search had not a few months later Chaerea, the
praetorian tribune, done the work with his hands which the dagger of
young Escanes had failed to do.

The winter had been slow in coming, but it had come at last. An icy wind
blew from across the sea. Overhead the sky was the colour of lead and
great banks of clouds chased one another wantonly above the hills that
tower over Jerusalem.

There was hardly a path up the rugged incline, the rains and winds and
snows of the past seven years had obliterated the marks which a surging
crowd had once made in the wake of the sacred feet.

It was close on the ninth hour and the shadows of evening were already
drawing in very fast. A tall figure dressed in sombre garments walked
slowly up the hill which is called Calvary.

His head was uncovered and he had no wand wherewith to ease his
footsteps; the blustering gusts of wind blew the tawny hair over his
brow.

He held his head erect and his eyes did not watch the places where trod
his feet. They were fixed on ahead, up toward the summit of the hill,
there where a Cross stood broken and lonely with wooden arms
outstretched and the birds of heaven circling all round it.

Every day for seven days now had the pilgrim wandered up the steep
desolate hill. Every day for seven days he had reached the summit ere
the ninth hour was called from the city walls. He lived at a small inn
just inside the third wall, and every day at noon he set out upon his
pilgrimage and only came home when the darkness of the night lay dense
upon the valley.

To-day he was more weary than he had ever been before. His feet felt
like leaden weights that seemed to be dragging him down and ever
downwards, and the loneliness of the place had its image within his
heart.

On the summit he fell on his knees and knelt at the foot of the Cross,
leaning his aching forehead against the cold, dank wood.

"How long, oh my God, how long?" he murmured. "The misery is more than I
can bear. I am ready to do Thy work, oh God, to speak Thy Word where
Thou dost