e
child--

"Father in heaven, take into thy kind care my father and brothers;"

And then, with a peaceful smile--

"Oh mother, I come!"

The father came forward delicately and softly behind and looked down,
his eyes full of tears. The child raised her languid eyes and smiled,
a strange, yearning heavenly smile; then she drew a deep breath and
fell asleep--her rest, the long last rest, had come.

Let the veil lie drawn tenderly over the poor father's sorrow. It is
sufficient to say that everything was done for his beloved one and his
home that could be done before Pathema and her faithful servant left.
The mourner's gratitude, deep and full, was their comfort and reward.

"My mistress," said Miriam, in an entreating respectful voice as they
turned towards the city in weary sad silence, "thou art much in need of
rest; wilt thou not proceed home, for the gathering of our people will
be well-nigh broken up ere we pass by?" Miriam was wise and good, she
loved her mistress fervently, and was trusted and treated as a
companion, not as a liberated slave.

"We pass the door, my Miriam, and it would be a rest to turn aside and
listen to the life-giving Word," answered Pathema, looking tenderly
into the devoted woman's tired face; "yet for thy sake, thy needful
release, I shall go on with thee."

"No, my mistress, no,--thy desire is good and right."

The Church of the Triple Arch was not far away, and the two plodded
patiently and trustfully back into the city, thinking not of any danger
that might come. Their day's work was done--hard and heart-trying, yet
beautiful, and as an exercise of mercy, beneficial to subject as well
as object, for "there is that scattereth and yet increaseth." Good
were it for the world if all mankind did their possible and necessary
share. The moon shone high and clear in the star-lit temple of the
sky. The night was calm, and nothing broke the stillness save the
discordant, mocking cry of a laughing hyena far behind, with an
occasional, distant shout rising from the city in front. As they
emerged from the olive-grove, the pet white dove, pursued by a
swift-winged night-hawk, swept like an arrow across their track, as if
an omen of coming trouble.

CHAPTER III

STILL ON THE WATCH.

Demonicus and Timon stood at the open door of the Christian church, not
far from the Triple Arch of the city wall, listening to the voice of
the shepherd Orestes, and eagerly watching for somethi