Читать книгу No. XIII; or, The Story of the Lost Vestal онлайн

32 страница из 55

The cave was of some extent, and had several divisions. A fissure in the rock above lighted the inner part, which was allotted to the women. Even in summer it was a cold habitation, and only when the sun was high in the heavens could any warmth and cheerfulness penetrate it. As Anna lay gazing up into the roof, she could see the blue sky far above her through the interlacing boughs of brambles, and low-growing maples which grew over the opening.

The thrushes were singing their morning song, and there was innumerable chirping of newly-fledged birds, while the lowing of distant cattle and the nearer humming of bees, kept up a continuous low murmur.

Poor Anna could not sleep; she was thinking over the life in the Roman villa, of all the little offices it would soon be time to perform for her mistress and for Hyacintha. She knew full well that she would be missed before long, and perhaps pursued and found. That punishment, if not death, was the doom of the escaped slave, she knew well. The band, the badge of that slavery, was still on her arm, and could only be taken off by the hand of a smith. It would betray her as the runaway slave of the noble Severus, though the cross, the sign of her new faith, was invisible to all eyes but the angels.