The judges before whom she was taken asked at once who she was and what was her history. The poor old merchant could only tell what he knew, how he had found her alone and friendless and accused of some terrible crime. Flavia herself would tell nothing more, and everything looked so black that they were sure she was guilty. So the poor innocent maiden was condemned to death, with no one to help or pity her.

The judges shook their heads sorrowfully to think that one so young and beautiful should be so wicked, and they declared it was fitting that a terrible punishment should follow such a life of crime. So they ordered that both her hands should be cut off and then that she should be carried out to sea and left to die alone on a desolate rock.

But when Flavia came to herself on the little desert island alone and dying, a strange feeling of peace began to steal over her. It was so cool and quiet lying on that rock. The soft lap of the waves soothed her after the turmoil of the angry voices, and the gentle breeze seemed like a friend laying a cool, caressing hand upon her aching forehead.

I have found peace at last, she said to herself with a tired smile as she turned and fell quietly asleep, thinking that all was over.

But that sleep was not the sleep of death. In the middle of the night she awoke and looked up to see the kindly stars shining down on her and to feel the cool wind gently stirring her hair. The soothing sound of the lapping water was still the only thing she heard, and again a great peace seemed to wrap her round and comfort her sad heart.

Then, as she lay there watching the stars, a light began to dawn in the sky. At first she thought it must be morning, but it was not at all like the light of dawn. Brighter and brighter it grew until it took the form of a shining cloud, so white and full of dazzling light that it seemed as if the midday sun must be shining from within.

Flavia gazed with wondering eyes as the cloud came ever nearer and nearer until it hung over the rock on which she lay. Then the wonder of it seemed to grow too great for mortal eyes. Like the petals of a white flower the soft masses of cloud unfolded from within, and there in the centre of the light stood the Madonna. Flavia knew that face at once, although it was far more beautiful than any picture she had ever seen.

The pitying look in the Madonna's face grew deeper as she bent down over Flavia and gently spoke to her.

Poor child, she said, I have come to put an end to all thy sufferings. There is nothing now but happiness in store for thee. Ere long thou wilt be taken from off this rock and thy troubles will be over. But first I have a gift to bestow upon thee.

And as she spoke the Madonna fastened two of the fairest, whitest hands upon Flavia's poor wrists, and round the join she placed two bands of shining gold. They looked the most perfect, the most beautiful hands that mortal eyes had ever seen, and no wonder, since they were a gift from the Madonna herself.

O Madonna mia, said Flavia with a sobbing breath, take me away with thee. I am so weary of this world and all its troubles. I only want to be at rest.

Nay, said the Madonna, I cannot take thee with me now, for there is still work for thee to do on earth.

How can that be? asked Flavia sadly.

Only wait and thou shalt see, answered the Madonna. I have still another gift for thee. When I am gone lift up that stone close to the water's edge, and under it thou shalt find a bunch of sweet herbs. Take them with thee, for they will cure all ills and bring much comfort to those in sorrow. Now, my child, wait patiently for thy release, and farewell.

Then the cloud began to fold itself once more like a closing flower round its shining heart. And Flavia watched it float away, growing dimmer and dimmer in the distance, until it vanished from her sight.

Could it have been only a dream and was she still asleep? Flavia wondered if she was dreaming, but she looked down at those fair white hands and the golden bands and knew that the Madonna had indeed come to comfort and heal her. Then she remembered the second gift, and, lifting the stone, she found there the bunch of sweet herbs which the Madonna had promised. She pressed them against her cheek to smell their fragrance and then carefully hid them in her robe. And, strange to say, she felt almost as happy and light-hearted as she used to feel when she was a young bride and Empress of Rome.

It was morning now, and as she looked across the blue water she saw a fishing-boat coming towards the island rowed by two men, one old and bent and the other with a bandage round his eyes. She called to them as they were rowing past, but at first they did not hear. Presently, however, they caught sight of her and came towards the rock.

The amazement of the fishermen was great to see a lady on that desolate island. It was all the more strange because she was so beautiful, with such wonderful golden bracelets and fair, white hands. They thought it must be some vision, until Flavia spoke to them and asked them from whence they came.

They told her their home was in a little fishing-village some distance from Ostia, and this pleased Flavia well.

Wilt thou take me there? she asked the old man. I will find means to repay thee.

The old man spoke some words to his companion, who nodded his head. He was a young man and seemed to be suffering great pain when he lifted the bandage from his eyes and tried to look at Flavia.

Is aught amiss with thine eyes? asked Flavia gently.

We fear he will soon be blind, said the old man mournfully. One eye was cut by a stone thrown by a careless boy, and now the sight of the other eye is almost gone.

Stay, said Flavia, perhaps I can help thee.

She took the bunch of herbs from her bosom, and after she had very tenderly undone the bandage she laid the sweet-smelling leaves upon the poor injured eyes.

The work of healing was done in a moment. The pain vanished and sight returned. Then feeling and seeing the miracle the two men fell on their knees, and lifting the hem of Flavia's robe, pressed it to their lips.

My lady, they said, tell us if thou art the Madonna herself?

Nay, said Flavia, smiling, but these herbs are indeed a gift from heaven. So give thanks to God for thy healing.

The grateful fishermen gladly now took her into their boat and rowed her back to the little village, where they gave her the best of everything their poverty could afford.

Every one who was sick or suffering came there to be cured by Flavia, and the blessed herbs never failed in their virtue. From the poor she took no payment, but from the rich she asked money, for she needed to live, and her clothes, too, were almost worn out.

Ere long the work in the village seemed ended, and Flavia made up her mind to depart. She had now bought a few garments, a plain black robe, and a long veil which covered her from head to foot. No one, she felt sure, would recognise her now, and so she set out to return to Ostia.

The fame of her cures had already reached that town, and people soon began to crowd around the Saint, as they called her. Very patiently she listened to all their woes and cured any one who came to her, just as she had done in the little fishing-village.

One day when they had brought a sick child to her, and the crowd was pressing round as usual to watch the miracle, she noticed a man trying to force his way through the crush as if anxious to reach her. As he came nearer and she saw his face she recognised him as one of the servants who lived in her old master's house. She bade the people allow the man to pass, and when he reached her side asked him what he sought.

Wilt thou come with me at once? he panted; my master's brother is dying. My master prays thee to come and try if thou canst save him.

When I am finished my work here I will come, said Flavia quietly

The servant waited impatiently, but Flavia would not come until she had done all she could for the sick child, and then she set out for the merchant's house.

What ails thy master's brother? she asked as they hurried along.

No one knows, answered the man, but he seems to have something on his mind and grows daily worse and worse.

When Flavia reached the house she knew so well, she almost forgot to pretend she was a stranger, but she allowed the man to lead her upstairs as if she did not know the way.

There was a priest in the room into which they led her, and the old merchant and his wife were also there. They were all standing round the bed on which the young man lay.

The old merchant turned quickly to meet the stranger, and in a low tone implored her to do all she could to cure his brother.

I will do my best, said Flavia gravely. But first I must ask if he has confessed his sins, because my herbs can only cure those who are truly penitent.

Oh yes, he has confessed only this morning, said the priest.

But Flavia knew by the calm way he spoke that the young man had not confessed all.

She went up to the bed and quietly bent over him.

There is one sin you have not confessed, she said.

The sick man began to tremble from head to foot, and the people around thought he was dying

Oh, help him! cried the old merchant in an imploring voice to Flavia.

I cannot help him unless he will help himself first and confess his sin, answered Flavia. My herbs are powerless to heal until he does that.

Then let us leave him alone with the priest, said the merchant.

Nay, said Flavia, he must confess before thee and thy wife and me.

The young man groaned, but feeling sure that he was about to die he made up his mind to confess his great sin.

I killed the child myself, he moaned, and laid the blame on Flavia.

A great cry broke from the lips of the merchant's wife, and the master himself gave a deep groan, but Flavia bent gently over the sick man and laid the bunch of herbs upon his breast. Health and strength came back immediately, but he turned his head to the wall.

To think how that poor child Flavia suffered while all the time she was innocent, sobbed the merchant's wife.

Well, at least he shall suffer the same, said the merchant sternly. Call the guards that they may carry him off to prison.

No, said Flavia firmly. See, his life has just been given back by a miracle. How would you dare to take it away again?

He has committed a crime and shall be put to death, although he is my brother, said the merchant sternly.

It is right that he should suffer seeing that he allowed Flavia to bear the punishment of his sin, said the merchant's wife. I shall never have a moment's peace thinking of that poor young innocent maid.

Let me entreat you to spare at least his life, pleaded Flavia.

No, for Flavia's sake I cannot, replied her old mistress.

But if I tell you that the maid you mourn for is alive and well, said Flavia, will you then be merciful?

If you promise that I shall indeed see Flavia some day you shall have your way, said the merchant's wife.

That I promise, said Flavia, and as to this man he shall go into a convent where he will have time to pray and repent all the rest of his life.

So at last this was settled and Flavia went home well content.

Soon after this the news reached Ostia that a terrible pestilence was raging in Rome and hundreds were dying daily. As soon as Flavia heard this she made up her mind to go there and see if she might help with her wonderful herbs.

Night and day she worked amongst the stricken people, healing all those who came to her, until the news of the wonderful cure reached the Emperor's ears. Then came a call for Flavia to go to the Imperial palace. The Emperor's brother was seized with the pestilence and the doctors said he could not live.

Send for the wonderful saint who would seem to work miracles, said the Emperor.

It was with strange feelings that Flavia mounted the great staircase of the Imperial palace. She thought of the day when she had entered so gaily as a young bride, and that sad day when she had come down for the last time.

No one could see that her eyes were full of tears, for she never lifted her long black veil, and only the servants noticed with wonder that she seemed to know her way without a guide.

In which room is the prince laid? she asked, when at last they reached the Emperor's apartments.

They led her to the room, and she entered very quietly and looked around. The Emperor stood by the bedside and he turned as she entered, but Flavia scarcely knew him, so old and sad had he grown. And when he lifted his eyes there was such a world of sorrow in them that Flavia's heart ached with pity. The prince, indeed, looked terribly ill and seemed in fearful pain, but Flavia scarcely glanced at him, for she could think of no one but the Emperor.

I think thou needest my healing powers as much as he who lies stricken there, she said in a low voice.

Mine is no illness that thou canst cure, said the Emperor quietly. It is sickness of the heart, not of the body.

But my herbs have wonderful power, said Flavia eagerly; let me but try.

The Emperor motioned her towards the bed.

I ask for nothing for myself, he said, only cure my brother, for he is all I have left.

I cannot cure him until he has confessed a sin that lies heavy on his soul, said Flavia.

Then call a priest, said the Emperor, and let it be done quickly.

Nay, said Flavia, he must confess it to thee and to me.

When the prince heard these words he turned his face to the wall and groaned aloud.

I would rather die than confess, he whispered.

But his sufferings began to increase so sorely that at last he could endure it no longer.

I will confess, he moaned. It was I who plotted against the Emperor's life. I accused Flavia to shelter myself. I am guilty. She was innocent.

The Emperor stood there as if turned to stone when these words fell on his ear, but Flavia bent over the dying man and gently laid her herbs upon his mouth, and the pain and fever fled away.

Then the low, stern voice of the Emperor sounded through the room when he saw his brother was saved.

Summon the guards, he said.

Stop! cried Flavia; think well before thou takest a life which God has but just given back.

Alas! said the Emperor, I cannot undo my rash mistake, but I can at least punish my brother as he caused Flavia to be punished.

Then Flavia began to plead with all her heart that he would spare the prince's life, while the young man clung to a fold of her robe, feeling that his only chance of safety lay with her.

But for a long time she pleaded in vain.

If I ordered Flavia to be put to death when she was innocent, how much more should I condemn this traitor when he himself owns that he is guilty? said the Emperor.

But supposing my wonderful herbs could bring the Empress back to life? said Flavia at last.

Ah, said the Emperor sadly, let me but once more see Flavia alive, and there would be no room in my heart for anything but forgiveness.

Then Flavia slowly lifted her veil and threw it back.

I am Flavia, she said simply.