She could picture the noble Roman father, leader of the victorious legion, sent over from Italy and making his home here in a conquered foreign land, as our officers do in India, and bringing with him his lady with her Roman customs and her slaves.

Those few brief words--"a most innocent soul who lived ten months"-- told the tragedy of the cherished little daughter whose frail life faded in the fogs of the British climate about eighteen hundred years ago.

Hearts are the same all the world over, and the pretty dark-eyed Roman baby must have been laid to its rest with as much grief and sadness as the fair-haired darlings whom British mothers sometimes bury in Indian soil.
"It's a sweet name, too--Simplicia Florentina!" mused Ingred.

"I wonder what she would have grown up like.

And what her history would have been! I'd give worlds to know more about her!" "Aren't you coming, Ingred ?" called Verity from the doorway.