s, that you should put such faith in him?'

'He is a man of age like mine. I found him, like me, worn down by the
calamities of his early life, and abandoned, as I had once been, to the
delusions of the pagan gods. He was desolate, suffering, forlorn, and
I had pity on him in his misery. I proved to him that the worship he
still professed was banished for its iniquities from the land; that the
religion which had succeeded it had become defiled by man, and that
there remained but one faith for him to choose, if he would be
saved--the faith of the early Church. He heard me and was converted.
From that moment he has served me patiently and helped me willingly.
Under the roof where I assemble the few who as yet are true believers,
he is always the first to come and the last to remain. No word of
anger has ever crossed his lips--no look of impatience has ever
appeared in his eyes. Though sorrowful, he is gentle; though suffering,
he is industrious. I have trusted him with all I possess, and I glory
in my credulity! Ulpius is incorruptible!'

'And your daughter?--is Ulpius reverenced by her as he is respected by
you?'

'She knows that her duty is to love whom I love, and to avoid whom I
avoid. Can you imagine that a Christian virgin has any feelings
disobedient to her father's wishes? Come to my house; judge with your
own eyes of my daughter and my companion. You, whose misfortunes have
left you no home, shall find one, if you will, with me. Come then and
labour with me in my great undertaking! You will withdraw your mind
from the contemplation of your woes, and merit by your devotion the
favour of the Most High.'

'No, Numerian, I will still be independent, even of my friends! Nor
Rome nor Italy are abiding-places for me. I go to another land to
abide among another people, until the arms of a conqueror shall have
restored freedom to the brave and protection to the honest throughout
the countries of the Empire.'

'Probus, I implore you stay!'

'Never! My determination is taken, Numerian--farewell!'

For a few minutes Numerian stood motionless, gazing wistfully in the
direction taken by his companion on his departure. At first an
expression of grief and pity softened the austerity which seemed the
habitual characteristic of his countenance when in repose, but soon
these milder and tenderer feelings appeared to vanish from his heart as
suddenly as they had arisen; his features reassumed their customary