"You say that the front measured two hundred feet, perhaps a little
over. Clearly, then, it was a domain of much importance, and the
granaries, mills, stables, slaves' dwellings would occupy much space
about it--an acre and a half, at least."

"Portions of a brick foundation were unearthed no less than three
hundred yards away. A hypocaust lay embedded among them, much broken
but recognisable."

"What puzzles me," mused M. Raoul, is how these southern settlers
managed to endure the climate."

"But that is explicable." Narcissus was off now, in full cry. "The
trees, my dear sir, the trees! I have not the slightest doubt that our
Bayfield elms are the ragged survivors of an immense forest--a forest
which covered the whole primaeval face of Somerset on this side of the
fens, and through which Vespasian's road-makers literally hewed their
way. Given these forests--which, by the way, extended over the greater
part of England--we must infer a climate totally unlike ours of this
present day, damper perhaps, but milder. Within his belt of trees the
colonist, secure from the prevailing winds, would plant a garden to
rival your gardens of the South--_'primus vere rosam atque autumno
carpere Poma.'_"

"Yes," added M. Raoul, taking fire; "and, perhaps, a plant of
helichryse or a rose-cutting from Paestum, to twine about the house-
pillars and comfort his exile."

"M. Raoul?" Dorothea's voice interrupted them. She stood by the looped
curtain, and reproached Narcissus with a look. "He has had no tea yet;