friends whom
they loved! Tell me only of your protectors, Antonina, for in that
there will be consolation; and you have come to console!'

As he waited for her reply he felt her tremble on his bosom, he saw the
shudder that ran over her frame. The despair in her voice, though she
only pronounced in answer to him the simple words, 'There was one'--and
then ceased, unable to proceed--penetrated coldly to his heart.

'Is he not at hand?' he hurriedly resumed. 'Why is he not here? Let
us seek him without delay. I must humble myself before him in my
gratitude. I must show him that I was worthy that my Antonina should
be restored.'

'He is dead!' she gasped, sinking down in the arms that embraced her,
as the recollections of the past night again crowded in all their
horror on her memory. 'They murdered him by my side. O father!
father! he loved me; he would have reverenced and protected you!'

'May the merciful God receive him among the blessed angels, and honour
him among the holy martyrs!' cried the father, raising his tearful eyes
in supplication. 'May his spirit, if it can still be observant of the
things of earth, know that his name shall be written on my heart with
the name of my child; that I will think on him as on a beloved
companion, and mourn for him as a son that has been taken from me!'

He ceased, and looked down on Antonina, whose features were still
hidden from him. Each felt that a new bond of mutual affection had
been created between them by what each had spoken; but both now
remained silent.

During this interval the thoughts of Numerian wandered from the
reflections which had hitherto occupied him. The few mournful words
which his daughter had spoken had been sufficient to banish its fulness
of joy from his heart, and to turn him from the happy contemplation of
the present to the dark recollections of the past. Vague doubts and
fears now mingled with his gratitude and hope, and involuntarily his
thoughts reverted to what he would fain have forgotten for ever--to the
morning when he had driven Antonina from her home.

Baseless apprehensions of the return of the treacherous Pagan and his
profligate employer, with the return of their victim--despairing
convictions of his own helplessness and infirmity rose startlingly in
his mind. His eyes wandered vacantly round the room, his hands closed
trembling over his daughter's form; then, suddenly releasing her, he
arose as one panic-stricken, a