gathering to-night, coming from all parts of the city. Some were
freedmen and others were slaves; among the figures gliding out on the
cobble-stoned Appian Way were members of Caesar's household, and one
or two tall Praetorian guards. The religion of Christ had found
converts among all classes. Rome was full of Christians, many of whom
feared to openly confess their faith, though later, they dared to do
so, even in the face of a cruel death.

Virgilia was so intent on her thoughts that she did not observe the
cat-like approach of her mother's personal slave, the daughter of
Alyrus, the porter. She and her father had been brought to Rome as
prisoners of war after a victorious conquest by the Romans in North
Africa. They were by descent, Moors, having dark skins but very
regular, even classical features. Sahira, the slave, walked like a
queen and was so proud that she would not mingle with the other
servants. Her father, Alyrus, chief of hundreds in the desert-land of
his own country, was but a door-keeper in the house of Aurelius
Lucanus, and he was, very bitter in spirit.

"Your mother has need of you," said Sahira, in her velvet voice. "I
think that the Lady Claudia is very ill."

"I will come at once."

The Lady Claudia was indeed very ill and continued so for several
weeks. The summer waxed and waned. The cool winds of September blew
strongly from the West and the calla lilies and jessamine had long
since withered in the garden before Claudia was able once again to sit
in the chair under the late tea-rose vines and listen to the rippling
water of the fountain.