Thus personal sorrow had mingled with and added weight to the
impressive and solemn grandeur of the occasion, yet, strangely
enough her mind was neither with the events of the day nor the dead,
but her thoughts were resting now where they had wandered many times
throughout the day, namely, to her little handmaid and special
attendant, as well as Vestal in the Temple, Sarthia.

Sarthia, who at the very beginning of the Chants and Litany, had
failed in her part and had, with such a pitiable moan and beseeching
glance at her, been hastily withdrawn from the assembly and assisted
to the private courts.

Poor child, she thought, the strain upon her emotions, the solemn
occasion, was too great for her in view of the crisis, which all
unknown to her, must be now impending. However, upon learning from
an attendant that the young girl was resting quietly and apparently
not ill, she had not herself personally visited her, but concluded
to wait until morning.

Once, twice, thrice, just as the Priestess had, as it were, passed
the border-land of sleep the pale face, with its pleading eyes and
plaintive cry, had started her back to vivid consciousness.

"Ah! this will never do," she said, springing to her feet.
"Something is indeed wrong," and taking up her mantle she glided
swiftly through the corridors, and a few moments later was bending
over the silent and motionless form of Sarthia.

Noiseless as had been the approach of the Priestess some interior
vibration had informed Sarthia of her coming and, with a quivering