o you
about Himself? He did not lie to me when He sent me out into the world
to find a man, and sent me back again to you with the good news that The
Man is born into the world.'

But to his astonishment, instead of the burst of bigoted indignation
which he had expected, Miriam answered in a low, confused, abstracted
voice--

'And did He send you hither? Well--that was more like what I used to
fancy Him....A grand thought it is after all--a Jew the king of heaven
and earth!.... Well--I shall know soon.... I loved Him once,.... and
perhaps....perhaps....'

Why did her head drop heavily upon his shoulder? He turned--a dark
stream of blood was flowing from her lips! He sprang to his feet. The
girls rushed in. They tore open her shawl, and saw the ghastly wound,
which she had hidden with such iron resolution to the last. But it was
too late. Miriam the daughter of Solomon was gone to her own place.
...............

Early the next morning, Raphael was standing in Cyril's anteroom,
awaiting an audience. There were loud voices within; and after a while a
tribune--whom he knew well hurried out, muttering curses--

'What brings you here, friend?'said Raphael.

'The scoundrel will not give them up,' answered he, in an undertone.

'Give up whom?'

'The murderers. They are in sanctuary now at the Caesareum. Orestes sent
me to demand them: and this fellow defies him openly!' And the tribune
hurried out.

Raphael, sickened with disgust, half-turned to follow him: but his
better angel conquered, and he obeyed the summons of the deacon who
ushered him in.

Cyril was walking up and down, according to his custom, with great
strides. When he saw who was his visitor, he stopped short with a look
of fierce inquiry. Raphael entered on business at once, with a cold calm
voice.

'You know me, doubtless; and you know what I was. I am now a Christian
catechumen. I come to make such restitution as I can for certain past
ill-deeds done in this city. You will find among these papers the
trust-deeds for such a yearly sum of money as will enable you to hire
a house of refuge for a hundred fallen women, and give such dowries to
thirty of them yearly as will enable them to find suitable husbands. I
have set down every detail of my plan. On its exact fulfilment depends
the continuance of my gift.'

Cyril took the document eagerly, and was breaking out with some
commonplace about pious benevolence, when the Jew stopped him.

'Your Holi