d vast sums on church-building,
she has opened the Xenodochium and pours her money by lavish handfuls
clown the insatiable throats of monks and priests. To what end? To have
her husband recognized as a martyr. Hitherto her toil and money have
been wasted. In my estimation the Bishop is a perfectly detestable
tyrant, and if I know him at all he will take all she will give and
never grant her wish. Now she is preparing her great move, and hopes
to startle him into compliance by a new marvel. She thinks that, like
a juggler who turns a white egg black, she can turn a heathen district
into a Christian one by a twist of her finger. Well--so far as I am
concerned I will have nothing to do with the trick."

During this harangue Marcus had alternately gazed at the floor and fixed
his large eyes in anguish on his brother's face. For some minutes he
found nothing to reply, and he was evidently going through a bitter
mental struggle. Demetrius spoke no more, but arranged the sheets of
papyrus that strewed the table. At length Marcus, after a deep sigh,
broke out in a tone of fervent conviction and with a blissful smile that
lighted up his whole face:

"Poor mother! And others misunderstand her just as you do; I myself
was in danger of doubting her. But I think that now I understand her
perfectly. She loved my father so completely that she hopes now to win
for his immortal soul the grace which he, in the flesh, neglected to
strive after. He was baptized, so she longs to win, by her prayers and
oblations, the mercy of the Lord who is so ready to forgive. She herself
firmly believes in the martyrdom of her beloved dead, and if only the
Church will rank him among those who have died for Her, he will be
saved, and she will find him standing in the pure radiance of the realms
above, with open arms, overflowing with fervent love and gratitude, to
welcome the faithful helpmate who will have purged his soul. Yes, now I
quite understand; and from this day forth I will aid and second her; the
hardest task shall not be too hard, the best shall not be too good,
if only we may open the gates of Heaven to my poor father's imperilled
soul."

As he spoke his eye glistened with ecstatic light; his brother, too,
was touched, and to hide his emotion, he exclaimed, more recklessly and
sharply than was his wont:

"That will come all right, never fear, lad!" But he hastily wiped his
eyes with his hand, slapped Marcus on the shoulder, and added gaily