Chapter 2

‘Does it matter—how I found out?’ She hesitated, as if debating what next to say. ‘I had to come, Marcellus,’ she went on, bravely. ‘I knew you would have no time—to come to me—and say good-bye.’

‘It was very—’ He stopped on the verge of ‘kind,’ which, he felt, would be too coolly casual, and saw Diana’s eyes swimming with tears. ‘It was very dear of you,’ he said, tenderly. Marcellus clasped her hands more firmly and drew her closer. She responded, after a momentary reluctance.

‘I wouldn’t have done it, of course,’ she said, rather breathlessly— ‘if the time hadn’t been so short. We’re all going to miss you.’ Then, a little unsteadily, she asked, ‘Will I hear from you, Marcellus?’ And when he did not immediately find words to express his happy surprise, she shook her head and murmured, ‘I shouldn’t have said that, I think. You will have more than enough to do. We can learn about each other through Lucia.’

‘But I shall want to write to you, dear,’ declared Marcellus, ‘and you will write to me—often—I hope. Promise!’

Diana smiled mistily, and Marcellus watched her dimples deepen—and disappear. His heart skipped a beat when she whispered, ‘You will write to me tonight? And send it back from Ostia—on the galley?’

‘Yes—Diana!’

‘Where is Lucia?’ she asked, impetuously reclaiming her hands.

‘Down in the arbors,’ said Marcellus.

Before he realized her intention, Diana had run away. At the top of the stairs she paused to wave to him. He was on the point of calling to her—to wait a moment—that he had something more to say; but the utter hopelessness of his predicament kept him silent. What more, he asked himself, did he want to say to Diana? What promise could he make to her—or exact of her? No—it was better to let this be their leave-taking. He waved her a kiss—and she vanished down the stairway. It was quite possible—quite probable indeed—that he would never see Diana again.

Moodily, he started toward the house; then abruptly turned back to the pergola. The girls had met and were strolling, arm in arm, through the rose arbor. Perhaps he was having a final glimpse of his lovable young sister, too. There was no good reason why he should put Lucia to the additional pain of another farewell.

It surprised him to see Demetrius ascending the stairway. What errand could have taken him down to the gardens, wondered Marcellus. Perhaps he would explain without being queried. His loyal Corinthian was not acting normally today. Presently he appeared at the top of the stairs and approached with the long, military stride that Marcellus had often found difficult to match when they were out on hunting trips. Demetrius seemed very well pleased about something; better than merely pleased. He was exultant! Marcellus had never seen such an expression on his slave’s face.

‘Shall I have the dunnage taken down to the galley now, sir?’ asked Demetrius, in a voice that betrayed recent excitement.

‘Yes—if it is ready.’ Marcellus was organizing a question, but found it difficult, and decided not to pry. ‘You may wait for me at the wharf,’ he added.

‘You will have had dinner, sir?’

Marcellus nodded; then suddenly changed his mind. He had taken leave of his family, one by one. They had all borne up magnificently. It was too much to ask of them—and him—that they should undergo a repetition of this distress in one another’s presence.

‘No,’ he said, shortly. ‘I shall have my dinner on the galley. You may arrange for it.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Demetrius’ tone indicated that he quite approved of this decision.

Marcellus followed slowly toward the house. There were plenty of things he would have liked to do, if he had been given one more day. There was Tullus, for one. He must leave a note for Tullus.

* * * * *