"Who sends these?" she asked, hope shining in her eyes, "and whence come
they?"
"From Rome, lady, as fast as sails could waft them and me. And the
sender is the noble Marcus, called the Fortunate."
"Oh!" said Miriam, blushing to her eyes, "tell me, sir, is he well?"
"Not so well but that such a look as that, lady, would better him, or
any other man, could he be here to see it," answered the Roman, gazing
at her with admiration.
"Did you then leave him ill? I do not understand."
"Nay, his health seemed sound, and his uncle Caius being dead his wealth
can scarce be counted, or so they say, since the old man made him his
heir. Perhaps that is why the divine Nero has taken such a fancy to him
that he can scarce leave the palace. Therefore I cannot say that Marcus
is well to-day, since sometimes Nero's friends are short-lived. Nay,
be not frightened, I did but jest; your Marcus is safe enough. Read the
letter, lady, and waste no time. As for me, my mission is fulfilled.
Thank me not; it is reward enough to have seen that sweet face of yours.
Fortunate indeed is the star of Marcus, and, though I am jealous of
the man, for your sake I pray that it may lead him back to you. Lady,
farewell."
"Cut the silk, Nou," said Miriam when the Captain Gallus had gone.
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