ister, to place thee in her care, and then I shall die in
peace." Tharsos spoke these last words very feebly, and then closing
his eyes he sank bask into unconsciousness.

Coryna's heart was torn, but she would not renounce hope.

* * * * *

It was difficult to trace where Pathema had gone, humble Christian
friends having taken her to a remote, obscure, but comfortable home.
One messenger, however, got word of her whereabouts late the same
night, but too late to be prudent to call. When he knocked at the door
next day he did not know that the object of his search was well
informed through her friends concerning Tharsos' critical state, and
that already there was a brief, beautiful, tablet-letter in her own
handwriting, lying near his unconscious pillow.

Weakened by her cruel experience, Pathema was resting quietly upon a
couch beside a small open window, her heart full of gratitude to God
for deliverance and of anxiety about her human deliverer.

"Is there a maiden named Pathema lodging here?" Marcellus, the
messenger, enquired.

"There is, sir," said a little Roman maid, the daughter of the hostess,
much excited as she looked out into the street and saw six slaves in
red livery standing beside a grand palanquin.

"My master, Tharsos, is at the point of death, but he would like to see
the Christian maiden ere he die."

Pathema overheard these words, and rose up at once. Though weak in
body, she was resolute in mind, and she had enjoyed a providential
night's rest. There was no delay in arranging matters, and she stepped
into the _lectica_ calmly but as one about to go through a painful
ordeal.

After elbowing their way through the streets, Marcellus leading, the
slaves at length laid their burden down beside a statue of Caractacus
in the vestibule before the door of the young nobleman's mansion.

Like the usual Roman dwelling, the exterior was not prepossessing; but
when Marcellus opened the door, the prospective view was peculiarly
magnificent. The doors and curtains of successive courts were drawn
aside, revealing active fountains, marble pillars with splendid
statuary, and a lawn and shrubbery exposed above to the blue Italian
sky.

Pathema ascended the marble steps, and passing through the richly
gilded door inlaid with tortoise-shell, she stood for a moment on the
mosaic floor of the _ostium_ or entrance hall. Overhead, a parrot of
brilliant plumage greeted her with th