Basil pulled away the trailing leafage from a marble hemicycle, and, having spread his cloak upon it, begged tremorously that Veranilda would rest.
'That wall shall be rebuilt,' said Aurelia, and, as if to inspect the ruin, wandered away.

When she was distant not many paces, Basil bent to his seated companion, and breathed in a passionate undertone: 'My letter reached your hands, O fairest ?' 'I received it--I read it.' As she spoke, Veranilda's cheeks flushed as if in shame.
'Will you reply, were it but one word ?' Her head drooped lower.

Basil seated himself at her side.
'One word, O Veranilda! I worship you--my soul longs for you--say only that you will be mine, my beloved lady, my wife!' Her blue eyes glistened with moisture as for an instant they met the dark glow in his.
'Do you know who I am ?' she whispered.
'You are Veranilda! You are beauty and sweetness and divine purity--' He sought her hand, but at this moment Aurelia turned towards them, and the maiden, quivering, stood up.
'Perhaps the sun is too powerful,' said Aurelia, with her tenderest smile.

'My lily has lived so long in the shade.' They lingered a little on the shadowed side, Aurelia reviving memories of her early life, then passed again under the vaulted arch.

Basil, whose eyes scarcely moved from Veranilda's face, could not bring himself to address her in common words, and dreaded that she would soon vanish.