Antonina | Page 4

falsification or confusion of historical dates--a species of poetical licence of which he felt no disposition to avail himself, as it was his main anxiety to make his plot invariably arise and proceed out of the great events of the era exactly in the order in which they occurred.
Influenced, therefore, by these considerations, he thought that by forming all his principal characters from imagination, he should be able to mould them as he pleased to the main necessities of the story; to display them, without any impropriety, as influenced in whatever manner appeared most strikingly interesting by its minor incidents; and further, to make them, on all occasions, without trammel or hindrance, the practical exponents of the spirit of the age, of all the various historical illustrations of the period, which the Author's researches among conflicting but equally important authorities had enabled him to garner up, while, at the same time, the appearance of verisimilitude necessary to an historical romance might, he imagined, be successfully preserved by the occasional introduction of the living characters of the era, in those portions of the plot comprising events with which they had been remarkably connected.
On this plan the recent work has been produced.
To the fictitious characters alone is committed the task of representing the spirit of the age. The Roman emperor, Honorius, and the Gothic king, Alaric, mix but little personally in the business of the story--only appearing in such events, and acting under such circumstances, as the records of history strictly authorise; but exact truth in respect to time, place, and circumstance is observed in every historical event introduced in the plot, from the period of the march of the Gothic invaders over the Alps to the close of the first barbarian blockade of Rome.

CONTENTS.
CHAPTER 1.
GOISVINTHA.
CHAPTER 2.
THE COURT.
CHAPTER 3.
ROME.
CHAPTER 4.
THE CHURCH.
CHAPTER 5.
ANTONINA.
CHAPTER 6.
AN APPRENTICESHIP TO THE TEMPLE.
CHAPTER 7.
THE BED-CHAMBER.
CHAPTER 8.
THE GOTHS.
CHAPTER 9.
THE TWO INTERVIEWS.
CHAPTER 10.
THE RIFT IN THE WALL.
CHAPTER 11.
GOISVINTHA'S RETURN.
CHAPTER 12.
THE PASSAGE OF THE WALL.
CHAPTER 13.
THE HOUSE IN THE SUBURBS.
CHAPTER 14.
THE FAMINE.
CHAPTER 15.
THE CITY AND THE GODS.
CHAPTER 16.
LOVE MEETINGS.
CHAPTER 17.
THE HUNS.
CHAPTER 18.
THE FARM-HOUSE.
CHAPTER 19.
THE GUARDIAN RESTORED.
CHAPTER 20.
THE BREACH REPASSED.
CHAPTER 21.
FATHER AND CHILD.
CHAPTER 22.
THE BANQUET OF FAMINE.
CHAPTER 23.
THE LAST EFFORTS OF THE BESIEGED.
CHAPTER 24.
THE GRAVE AND THE CAMP.
CHAPTER 25.
THE TEMPLE AND THE CHURCH.
CHAPTER 26.
RETRIBUTION.
CHAPTER 27.
THE VIGIL OF HOPE.
THE CONCLUSION. 'UBI THESAURUS IBI COR.'
CHAPTER 1.
GOISVINTHA.
The mountains forming the range of Alps which border on the north- eastern confines of Italy, were, in the autumn of the year 408, already furrowed in numerous directions by the tracks of the invading forces of those northern nations generally comprised under the appellation of Goths.
In some places these tracks were denoted on either side by fallen trees, and occasionally assumed, when half obliterated by the ravages of storms, the appearance of desolate and irregular marshes. In other places they were less palpable. Here, the temporary path was entirely hidden by the incursions of a swollen torrent; there, it was faintly perceptible in occasional patches of soft ground, or partly traceable by fragments of abandoned armour, skeletons of horses and men, and remnants of the rude bridges which had once served for passage across a river or transit over a precipice.
Among the rocks of the topmost of the range of mountains immediately overhanging the plains of Italy, and presenting the last barrier to the exertions of a traveller or the march of an invader, there lay, at the beginning of the fifth century, a little lake. Bounded on three sides by precipices, its narrow banks barren of verdure or habitations, and its dark and stagnant waters brightened but rarely by the presence of the lively sunlight, this solitary spot--at all times mournful-- presented, on the autumn of the day when our story commences, an aspect of desolation at once dismal to the eye and oppressive to the heart.
It was near noon; but no sun appeared in the heaven. The dull clouds, monotonous in colour and form, hid all beauty in the firmament, and shed heavy darkness on the earth. Dense, stagnant vapours clung to the mountain summits; from the drooping trees dead leaves and rotten branches sunk, at intervals, on the oozy soil, or whirled over the gloomy precipice; and a small steady rain fell, slow and unintermitting, upon the deserts around. Standing upon the path which armies had once trodden, and which armies were still destined to tread, and looking towards the solitary lake, you heard, at first, no sound but the regular dripping of the rain-drops from rock to rock; you saw no prospect but the motionless waters at your feet, and the dusky crags which shadowed them from above. When, however, impressed by the mysterious loneliness of the place, the eye grew more penetrating and the ear more attentive, a cavern became apparent in the precipices round the lake; and, in the intervals of the