"The sculptor of this statue knew what a king should be," observed

Kenyon, "and knew, likewise, the heart of mankind, and how it craves a

true ruler, under whatever title, as a child its father."

"O, if there were but one such man as this?" exclaimed Miriam. "One such

man in an age, and one in all the world; then how speedily would the

strife, wickedness, and sorrow of us poor creatures be relieved. We

would come to him with our griefs, whatever they might be,--even a poor,

frail woman burdened with her heavy heart,--and lay them at his feet,

and never need to take them up again. The rightful king would see to

all."

"What an idea of the regal office and duty!" said Kenyon, with a smile.

"It is a woman's idea of the whole matter to perfection. It is Hilda's,

too, no doubt?"

"No," answered the quiet Hilda; "I should never look for such assistance

from an earthly king."

"Hilda, my religious Hilda," whispered Miriam, suddenly drawing the girl

close to her, "do you know how it is with me? I would give all I have or

hope--my life, O how freely--for one instant of your trust in God! You

little guess my need of it. You really think, then, that He sees and

cares for us?"

"Miriam, you frighten me."

"Hush, hush? do not let them hear yet!" whispered Miriam. "I frighten

you, you say; for Heaven's sake, how? Am I strange? Is there anything

wild in my behavior?"

"Only for that moment," replied Hilda, "because you seemed to doubt

God's providence."

"We will talk of that another time," said her friend. "Just now it is

very dark to me."

On the left of the Piazza of the Campidoglio, as you face cityward, and

at the head of the long and stately flight of steps descending from the

Capitoline Hill to the level of lower Rome, there is a narrow lane

or passage. Into this the party of our friends now turned. The path

ascended a little, and ran along under the walls of a palace, but soon

passed through a gateway, and terminated in a small paved courtyard. It

was bordered by a low parapet.

The spot, for some reason or other, impressed them as exceedingly

lonely. On one side was the great height of the palace, with the

moonshine falling over it, and showing all the windows barred and

shuttered. Not a human eye could look down into the little courtyard,

even if the seemingly deserted palace had a tenant. On all other sides

of its narrow compass there was nothing but the parapet, which as it now

appeared was built right on the edge of a steep precipice. Gazing

from its imminent brow, the party beheld a crowded confusion of roofs

spreading over the whole space between them and the line of hills that

lay beyond the Tiber. A long, misty wreath, just dense enough to catch

a little of the moonshine, floated above the houses, midway towards the

hilly line, and showed the course of the unseen river. Far away on the

right, the moon gleamed on the dome of St. Peter's as well as on many

lesser and nearer domes.




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