skill as rare as her gentleness; her touch on the hot forehead is
like that of a flower plucked before sunrise. Hearing me speak thus
of her, what think you, O Basil, must be my trust in the man to whom
I would give her for wife?'

'Can you doubt my love, O Aurelia?' cried the listener, clasping his
hands before him.

'Your love? No. But your prudence, is that as little beyond doubt?'

'I have thought long and well,' said Basil.

Aurelia regarded him steadily.

'You spoke with her in the garden just now. Did she reply?'

'But few words. She asked me if I knew her origin, and blushed as
she spoke.'

'It is her wish that I should tell you; and I will.'

Scarce had Aurelia begun her narrative, when Basil perceived that
his own conjecture, and that of Marcian, had hit the truth.
Veranilda was a great-grandchild of Amalafrida, the sister of King
Theodoric, being born of the daughter of King Theodahad; and her
father was that Ebrimut, whose treachery at the beginning of the
great war delivered Rhegium into the hands of the Greeks. Her
mother, Theodenantha, a woman of noble spirit, scorned the unworthy
Goth, and besought the conqueror to let her remain in Italy, even as
a slave, rather than share with such a husband the honours of the