Glaucus, solemnly, 'I have listened to thee
with awe, with wonder, and with a secret tendency towards conviction.
Had our lives been spared, I might gradually have weaned myself from the
tenets of my own faith, and inclined to thine; but, in this last hour it
were a craven thing, and a base, to yield to hasty terror what should
only be the result of lengthened meditation. Were I to embrace thy
creed, and cast down my father's gods, should I not be bribed by thy
promise of heaven, or awed by thy threats of hell? Olinthus, no! Think
we of each other with equal charity--I honoring thy sincerity--thou
pitying my blindness or my obdurate courage. As have been my deeds,
such will be my reward; and the Power or Powers above will not judge
harshly of human error, when it is linked with honesty of purpose and
truth of heart. Speak we no more of this. Hush! Dost thou hear them
drag yon heavy body through the passage? Such as that clay will be ours
soon.'

'O Heaven! O Christ! already I behold ye!' cried the fervent Olinthus,
lifting up his hands; 'I tremble not--I rejoice that the prison-house
shall be soon broken.'

Glaucus bowed his head in silence. He felt the distinction between his
fortitude and that of his fellow-sufferer. The heathen did not tremble;
but the Christian exulted.

The door swung gratingly back--the gleam of spears shot along the walls.

'Glaucus the Athenian, thy time has come,' said a loud and clear voice;
'the lion awaits thee.'

'I am ready,' said the Athenian. 'Brother and co-mate, one last
embrace! Bless me--and farewell!'

The Christian opened his arms--he clasped the young heathen to his
breast--he kissed his forehead and cheek--he sobbed aloud--his tears
flowed fast and hot over the features of his new friend.

'Oh! could I have converted thee, I had not wept. Oh! that I might say
to thee, "We two shall sup this night in Paradise!"'

'It may be so yet,' answered the Greek, with a tremulous voice. 'They
whom death part not, may meet yet beyond the grave: on the earth--on the
beautiful, the beloved earth, farewell for ever!--Worthy officer, I
attend you.'

Glaucus tore himself away; and when he came forth into the air, its
breath, which, though sunless, was hot and arid, smote witheringly upon
him. His frame, not yet restored from the effects of the deadly
draught, shrank and trembled. The officers supported him.

'Courage!' said one; 'thou art young, active, well knit. They g