man would have dared to brave me so. What a story for Rome! Let
the messenger leave this very night, Arsenius, to tell them how their
Emperor has upheld their honour in Olympia this day."

THROUGH THE VEIL.

He was a great shock-headed, freckle-faced Borderer, the lineal
descendant of a cattle-thieving clan in Liddesdale. In spite of his
ancestry he was as solid and sober a citizen as one would wish to see, a
town councillor of Melrose, an elder of the Church, and the chairman of
the local branch of the Young Men's Christian Association. Brown was his
name--and you saw it printed up as "Brown and Handiside" over the
great grocery stores in the High Street. His wife, Maggie Brown, was an
Armstrong before her marriage, and came from an old farming stock in
the wilds of Teviothead. She was small, swarthy, and dark-eyed, with a
strangely nervous temperament for a Scotch woman. No greater contrast
could be found than the big tawny man and the dark little woman; but
both were of the soil as far back as any memory could extend.

One day--it was the first anniversary of their wedding--they had driven
over together to see the excavations of the Roman Fort at Newstead. It
was not a particularly picturesque spot. From the northern bank of the
Tweed, just where the river forms a loop, there extends a gentle slope
of arable land. Across it run the trenches of the excavators, with here
and there an exposure of old stonework to show the foundations of the
ancient walls. It had been a huge place, for the camp was fifty acres
in extent, and the fort fifteen. However, it was all made easy for them
since Mr. Brown knew the farmer to whom the land belonged. Under his
guidance they spent a long summer evening inspecting the trenches, the
pits, the ramparts, and all the strange variety of objects which were
waiting to be transported to the Edinburgh Museum of Antiquities. The
buckle of a woman's belt had been dug up that very day, and the farmer
was discoursing upon it when his eyes fell upon Mrs. Brown's face.

"Your good leddy's tired," said he. "Maybe you'd best rest a wee before
we gang further."

Brown looked at his wife. She was certainly very pale, and her dark eyes
were bright and wild.

"What is it, Maggie? I've wearied you. I'm thinkin' it's time we went
back."

"No, no, John, let us go on. It's wonderful! It's like a dreamland
place. It all seems so close and so near to me. How long were the Romans
here, Mr. Cunni