‘To Cumae?’ exclaimed Basil.  ’Ay, that I can!  You are returning thither?’

’For a day only.  I go to seek that which no one but myself can find.’

The listener had no difficulty in understanding this; it meant, of course, treasure concealed in the house Aurelia had long inhabited.

‘We must both go and return by sea,’ said Aurelia, ’even though it cause us delay.  I have no mind to pass through Neapolis.’

’Be it so.  The sky will be calm when this storm has passed Shall you return,’ said Basil, ‘alone?’

‘Alone?  Do you purpose to forsake me?’

’Think better of my manners, cousin—­and more shrewdly of my meaning.’

‘You mean fairly, I trust?’ she returned, looking him steadily in the face.

‘Nay,’ cried the young man vehemently, ’if I have any thought other than honest, may I perish before I ever again behold her!’

Aurelia’s gaze softened.

‘It is well,’ she said; ‘we will speak again to-morrow.’

That night Petronilla kept vigil in the church of Surrentum, Basil and Decius relieving her an hour before dawn.  At the funeral service, which began soon after sunrise, the greater part of the townsfolk attended.  All were eager to see whether the daughter of Maximus would be present, for many rumours were rife touching Aurelia, some declaring that she had returned to the true faith, some that she remained obstinate in heresy.  Her failure to appear did not set the debate at rest.  A servant of Petronilla whispered it about that only by a false pretence of conversion had Aurelia made sure her inheritance; and at the mere thought of such wickedness the hearers shuddered, foretelling a dread retribution.  The clergy were mute on the subject, even with the most favoured of their flock.  Meanwhile the piety and austerity of Petronilla made a safe topic of talk, and a long procession reverently escorted her to her temporary abode near the bishop’s house.

To-day the clouds spent themselves in rain; before nightfall the heavens began to clear.  The island peak of Inarime stood purple against a crimson sunset.  After supper, Aurelia and Basil held conference.  The wind would not be favourable for their voyage; none the less, they decided to start at the earliest possible hour.  Dawn was but just streaking the sky, when they rode down the dark gorge which led to the shore, Basil attended by Felix, the lady by one maid.  The bark awaited them, swaying gently against the harbour-side.  Aurelia descended to the little cabin curtained off below a half-deck, and—­sails as yet being useless—­four great oars urged the craft on its way.

What little wind there was breathed from the north For an hour they made but slow progress, but when the first rays of sun gleamed above the mountains, the breeze shifted westward; sails were presently hoisted, and the rippling water hissed before the prow.  Soon a golden day shone upon sea and land.  Aurelia came forth on to the deck, and sat gazing towards Neapolis.