fts, but poor in those of eternity, knelt
down to receive that sacred stream upon her brow, which fell upon her with
almost sensible sweetness, and suddenly produced a serenity different in
kind from anything she had ever before even had the power of conceiving.

The bishop gave her confirmation, and then the Holy Eucharist. It was her
first and last communion; in a few days she renewed it, or rather
completed it, under the very Face and Form of Him whom she now believed
without seeing.

"Farewell, my dearest of children," said Caecilius, "till the hour when we
both meet before the throne of God. A few sharp pangs which you can count
and measure, and all will be well. You will be carried through joyously,
and like a conqueror. I know it. You could face the prospect before you
were a Christian, and you will be equal to the actual trial, now that you
are."

"Never fear me, father," she said in a clear, low voice. The bishop and
his deacon left the prison.

The sun had all but set, when Caecilius and Victor passed the city gate;
and it was more than twilight as they crossed the wild hills leading to
the precipitous pass. Evil men were not their only peril in this work of
charity. They were also in danger from wild beasts in these lone wastes,
and, the heathen would have added, from bad spirits. Bad spirits Caecilius
recognised too; but he would not have granted that they were perilous. The
two went forward, saying prayers lowly, and singing psalms, when a sudden
cry was heard, and a strong tall form rushed past them. It might be some
robber of the wild, or dangerous outcast, or savage fanatic, who knew and
hated their religion; however, while they stopped and looked, he had come,
and he was gone. But he came again, more slowly; and from his remarkable
shape Caecilius saw that it was the brother of Agellius. He said, "Juba;"
Juba started back, and stood at a distance. Caecilius held out his hand,
and called him on, again mentioning his name. The poor fellow came nearer:
Caecilius's day's work was not at an end.

Since we last heard of him, Juba had dwelt in the mountainous tract over
which the two Christians were now passing; roaming to and fro, or beating
himself in idle fury against the adamantine rocks, and fighting with the
stern necessity of the elements. How he was sustained can hardly be
guessed, unless the impulse, which led him on the first accession of his
fearful malady, to fly upon the beasts of the dese