lower voice, as she met Basil's look.

Veranilda did not speak, but an anxious hope dawned in her face. And
Basil saw it.

'Have you spoken of it, cousin?' he asked.

'The thought has but just come to me.'

'Decius is not in good health. Thus late in the year, to travel by
sea--Yet the weather may be fair, the sea still; and then it
would be easier for him than the journey by land.'

Basil spoke in a halting tone. He could not without a certain shame
think of revoking his promise to Petronilla, a very distinct
promise, in which natural obligation had part. Yet the thought of
the journey, of an absence from Veranilda, not without peril of many
kinds, grew terrible to him. He looked at Veranilda again, and
smiled encouragement.

The lady Petronilla had been wont to dine and sup in dignified
publicity, seated on the _sigma_, in the room which had seen so many
festivals, together with her male relatives and any guest who might
be at the villa; in her presence, no man permitted himself the
recumbent attitude, which indeed had been unusual save among the
effeminate. But Aurelia and her companion took their meals apart.
This evening, Basil and Decius supped almost in silence, each busy
with his reflections. They lingered over the wine, their attendants
having left them, until Decius, as if rousing himself from a dream,
asked how long it was likely to be before the ship could sail. Basil