On his ride this morning
Marcian had passed within view of the church, and would have gone
thither but for his rain drenched clothing. Now, during the second
night of temptation, he resolved to visit the priests as soon as it
was day and to bring one of them back with him to the villa, to
remain as long as Veranilda should be there. Firm in this purpose he
rose with the rising sun, called for his horse, and rode to the
bridge. There, looking down at the white cataract, stood Veranilda
and her attendant.
He alighted. With a timid smile the maiden advanced to meet him.
'Abroad so early?' were his first words, a mere tongue-found phrase.
'I was tempted by the fresh morning. It does not displease you, lord
Marcian?'
'Nay, I am glad.'
'It is so long,' continued the gentle voice, 'since I was free to
walk under the open sky.'
Marcian forgot that his gaze was fixed upon her, forgot that he was
silent, forgot the purpose with which he had ridden forth.
'I hoped I might see you to-day,' she added. 'You have yet no news
for me?'
'None.'
The blue eyes drooped sadly.
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