nions and occupations that you loved--tell me, Antonina, would not
your happiness be complete?'

As he looked round at the girl to listen to her reply, he saw that her
countenance had changed. Their past expression of deep grief had again
returned to her features. Her eyes were fixed on the short dagger that
hung over the Goth's breast, which seemed to have suddenly aroused in
her a train of melancholy and unwelcome thoughts. When she at length
spoke, it was in a mournful and altered voice, and with a mingled
expression of resignation and despair.

'You must leave me--we must be parted again,' said she; 'the sight of
your weapons has reminded me of all that until now I had forgotten, of
all that I have left in Rome, of all that you have abandoned before the
city walls. Once I thought we might have escaped together from the
turmoil and the danger around us, but now I know that it is better that
you should depart! Alas! for my hopes and my happiness, I must be left
alone once more!'

She paused for an instant, struggling to retain her self-possession,
and then continued:--

'Yes, you must quit me, and return to your post before the city; for in
the day of assault there will be none to care for my father but you!
Until I know that he is safe, until I can see him once more, and ask
him for pardon, and entreat him for love, I dare not remove from the
perilous precincts of Rome! Return, then, to your duties, and your
companions, and your occupations of martial renown; and do not forget
Numerian when the city is assailed, nor Antonina, who is left to think
on you in the solitary plains!'

She rose from her place, as if to set the example of departing; but her
strength and resolution both failed her, and she sank down again on the
couch, incapable of making another movement, or uttering another word.

Strong and conflicting emotions passed over the heart of the Goth. The
language of the girl had quickened the remembrance of his
half-forgotten duties, and strengthened the failing influence of his
old predilections of education and race. Both conscience and
inclination now opposed his disputing her urgent and unselfish request.
For a few minutes he remained in deep reflection; then he rose and
looked earnestly from the window; then back again upon Antonina and the
room they occupied. At length, as if animated by a sudden
determination, he again approached his companion, and thus addressed
her:--

'It is right that