ll be with us
all, if we can bring one stray lamb into the sacred fold!'

There seemed to Apaecides, so naturally pure of heart, something
ineffably generous and benign in that spirit of conversation which
animated Olinthus--a spirit that found its own bliss in the happiness of
others--that sought in its wide sociality to make companions for
eternity. He was touched, softened, and subdued. He was not in that
mood which can bear to be left alone; curiosity, too, mingled with his
purer stimulants--he was anxious to see those rites of which so many
dark and contradictory rumours were afloat. He paused a moment, looked
over his garb, thought of Arbaces, shuddered with horror, lifted his
eyes to the broad brow of the Nazarene, intent, anxious, watchful--but
for his benefits, for his salvation! He drew his cloak round him, so as
wholly to conceal his robes, and said, 'Lead on, I follow thee.'

Olinthus pressed his hand joyfully, and then descending to the river
side, hailed one of the boats that plyed there constantly; they entered
it; an awning overhead, while it sheltered them from the sun, screened
also their persons from observation: they rapidly skimmed the wave.
From one of the boats that passed them floated a soft music, and its
prow was decorated with flowers--it was gliding towards the sea.

'So,' said Olinthus, sadly, 'unconscious and mirthful in their
delusions, sail the votaries of luxury into the great ocean of storm and
shipwreck! we pass them, silent and unnoticed, to gain the land.'

Apaecides, lifting his eyes, caught through the aperture in the awning a
glimpse of the face of one of the inmates of that gay bark--it was the
face of Ione. The lovers were embarked on the excursion at which we
have been made present. The priest sighed, and once more sunk back upon
his seat. They reached the shore where, in the suburbs, an alley of
small and mean houses stretched towards the bank; they dismissed the
boat, landed, and Olinthus, preceding the priest, threaded the labyrinth
of lanes, and arrived at last at the closed door of a habitation
somewhat larger than its neighbors. He knocked thrice--the door was
opened and closed again, as Apaecides followed his guide across the
threshold.

They passed a deserted atrium, and gained an inner chamber of moderate
size, which, when the door was closed, received its only light from a
small window cut over the door itself. But, halting at the threshold of
this chambe