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

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Cæcilia was not a mother to be too much concerned about her child’s future. The loss of Ebba, which entailed personal inconvenience, really distressed her more than this proposed separation from her only daughter. Hyacintha had for some time heard a rumour that this office in the temple of the goddess Vesta was to be her appointed lot. As, in later times, the daughters of noble families were consigned to the convent, and given no choice in the matter by their parents, but compelled to take the veil, so, in the era of which I write, there was no question as to the propriety of devoting them to the service of Vesta, which was considered the most honourable of all services connected with the temples of the gods.

There were often difficulties in the way, as many requirements had to be satisfied before a candidate for the office was accepted, but Hyacintha could fulfil these. She was of noble birth, and fair to look upon; her disposition was gentle, and her temper sweet. She had never rebelled against her parents’ wishes in her short life, and she was not likely to do so now. Indeed, of late she had been herself looking forward to the temple service; child as she was, she hungered for service, to do some great and noble deed, and know some higher life than that which the ladies about her led, of feasting and song, of excessive ornaments and luxurious plenty on the board of food and wine.