ramas. Antigone
was her favourite, and she wished Felix to see it. In some indefinable
manner the spirit of the ancient Greeks seemed to her in accord with the
times, for men had or appeared to have so little control over their own
lives that they might well imagine themselves overruled by destiny.
Communication between one place and another was difficult, the division
of society into castes, and the iron tyranny of arms, prevented the
individual from making any progress in lifting himself out of the groove
in which he was born, except by the rarest opportunity, unless specially
favoured by fortune. As men were born so they lived; they could not
advance, and when this is the case the idea of Fate is always
predominant. The workings of destiny, the Irresistible overpowering both
the good and the evil-disposed, such as were traced in the Greek drama,
were paralleled in the lives of many a miserable slave at that day. They
were forced to endure, for there was no possibility of effort.

Aurora saw this and felt it deeply; ever anxious as she was for the good
of all, she saw the sadness that reigned even in the midst of the fresh
foliage of spring and among the flowers. It was Fate; it was Sophocles.

She took the part of the heroine herself, clad in Greek costume; Felix
listened and watched, absorbed in his love. Never had that ancient drama
appeared so beautiful as then, in the sunlight; the actors stepped upon
the daisied sward, and the song of birds was all their music.

While the play was still proceeding, those who were to form the usual
procession had already been assembling in the court before the castle,
and just after noon, to the sound of the trumpet, the Baron, with his
youngest son beside him (the eldest was at Court), left the porch,
wearing his fur-lined short mantle, his collar, and golden spurs, and
the decoration won so many years before; all the insignia of his rank.
He walked; his war-horse, fully caparisoned, with axe at the saddle-bow,
was led at his right side, and upon the other came a knight carrying the
banneret of the house.

The gentlemen of the house followed closely, duly marshalled in ranks,
and wearing the gayest dress; the leading retainers fully armed, brought
up the rear. Immediately upon issuing from the gate of the wall, the
procession was met and surrounded by the crowd, carrying large branches
of may in bloom, flowers, and green willow boughs. The flowers they
flung before him on the