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Updated: June 1, 2025
Now if these flowers were really, as there was so much reason for supposing, the one ingredient that had for hundreds of years been missing out of Aunt Keziah's nostrum, if it was this which that strange Indian sagamore had mingled with his drink with such beneficial effect, why should not Septimius now restore it, and if it would not make his beloved aunt young again, at least assuage the violent symptoms, and perhaps prolong her valuable life some years, for the solace and delight of her numerous friends?
Of the ancient city one could see the sunburnt tower of the Capitol, the black cypresses of the Palatine, and the ruins of the palace of Septimius Severus, suggesting the white osseous carcase of some fossil monster, left there by a flood.
Septimius, too, accorded his gracious consent to the union, and while he thought within himself that such a brief union was not worth the trouble and feeling which his sister and her lover wasted on it, still he wished them happiness.
"Drink first, dear, so that my sick old lips need not taint it. You look pale, Septimius; it will do you good." "No, Aunt Keziah, I do not need it; and it were a pity to waste your precious drink," said he. "It does not look quite the right color," said Aunt Keziah, as she took the cup in her hand. "You must have dropped some soot into it."
O Septimius, Septimius, it is worth while to die, to be so blest, so exhilarated as I am now." "Good God, Sibyl, is this possible?" "Even so, Septimius.
Meantime, the boat approaching, Septimius spoke first, addressing Pompey in Latin by the title of Imperator. Then Achillas saluted him in Greek, and desired him to come into the boat, because the water was very shallow towards the shore, and a galley must strike upon the sands.
I think, Septimius, that you are bound to obey his request; indeed, having promised him, nothing short of an impossibility should prevent your keeping your faith. Let us lose no time, then." With few but deeply solemn rites the young stranger was laid by the minister and the youth who slew him in his grave.
"Nothing is so cold, except it be the potent medicine. It makes me shiver." "Never mind that," said Sibyl. "You look frightened at me." "Do I?" said Septimius. "No, not that; but this is such a crisis; and methinks it is not yourself. Your eyes glare on me strangely." "Ah, yes; and you are not frightened at me? Well, I will try not to be frightened at myself.
These, except for some murmurings, some groanings and unintelligible whisperings, were the last utterances of poor Aunt Keziah, who did not live a great while longer, and at last passed away in a great sigh, like a gust of wind among the trees, she having just before stretched out her hand again and grasped that of Septimius; and he sat watching her and gazing at her, wondering and horrified, touched, shocked by death, of which he had so unusual a terror, and by the death of this creature especially, with whom he felt a sympathy that did not exist with any other person now living.
He found the line which had before gleamed out, and vanished again, and which now started out in strong relief; even as when sometimes we see a certain arrangement of stars in the heavens, and again lose it, by not seeing its individual stars in the same relation as before; even so, looking at the manuscript in a different way, Septimius saw this fragment of a sentence, and saw, moreover, what was necessary to give it a certain meaning.
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