Mrs. Lansdowne first interrupted it, by exclaiming, “John, what are you thinking of?”

“Thinking of! why I was thinking just then how those Pompeians used to sit in these porticoes and talk of the deeds of Caesar and of the eloquence of Cicero, while those renowned men were yet living, and how they discussed the great combats in the amphitheatres of Rome.  And what were you cogitating, my dear mother?” said he, smiling.

“Oh!  I was thinking woman’s thoughts.  How slowly they excavate here!  I have an extreme curiosity to know what there is, yet uncovered to the light of day, beyond that dead wall of ashes”.

“If I were a magician, I would apply to your eyes some unguent, which should unveil what is there concealed”, said John, smiling.  “Will you go now to the theatre?”

He drew his mother’s arm within his, and they moved on.  That portion of the city appeared as if it had been partially destroyed by a conflagration.

Looking towards Vesuvius, he said, “I can easily imagine the sensations of those who gazed at the volcano on that terrible day and saw for the first time its flames bursting out, and throwing their horrid glare on the snow-capped mountains around.  Fire is a tremendous element”.

As he uttered the words, the scene of the great conflagration at Miramichi rose to his view.

“Salve!  Salve!” exclaimed a rich, musical voice near him, just at that moment.

The word and the tone in which it was uttered, thrilled him, like an electric shock.  He looked, with a bewildered air, in the direction from whence the voice proceeded, and saw, standing before the threshold of one of the Pompeian houses, a tall, elegant female figure, habited in mourning.

Her eyes were fixed upon the word of salutation, written on the threshold, at the entrance.  After contemplating it a moment, she turned her head involuntarily towards Mr. Lansdowne, who stood transfixed to the spot.  Their eyes met in instant recognition.  Neither moved—­they were both paralyzed with sudden emotion.

Mrs. Lansdowne looked up in surprise.

“What is it, John?”

“It is”, said he, recovering himself, “it is, that I am astonished to meet here, so unexpectedly, a friend whom I supposed to be in France—­certainly not here”.

He led his mother forward a few steps and presented her to
Mademoiselle Dubois.

M. and Mdme. Dubois, who were standing a little apart, examining some objects of interest, while this scene of recognition transpired, now joined the group and were presented to Mrs. Lansdowne.  During the remainder of the day, the two families formed one party.

They visited the ruined theatre, the Forum, the temples of Isis and Hercules, but the spell of Pompeii no longer bound the souls of John and Adele.  It is true, they walked on, sometimes side by side, sometimes with other forms between, absorbed, entranced; but a spirit more potent than any inhabiting the walls of the old Roman city had touched the powers of their being and woven its sorceries around them.  The living present had suddenly shut out the past.