imself spoke them, and
Paul wrote them to the Galatians."

"Who is this Paul?" Melissa asked; and the Christian replied that of all
the teachers of her faith he was the one she most dearly loved. Then,
hesitating a little, she asked if Melissa, being a heathen, had inquired
the meaning of this saying.

"Andrew, the freedman of Polybius and the lady Euryale, explained it to
me. Did the moment ever come to you in which you felt assured that for
you the time was fulfilled?"

"Yes," replied Johanna, with decision; "and that moment comes, sooner or
later, in every life."

"You are a maiden like myself," began Melissa, simply. "A heavy task
lies before me, and if you would confide to me--"

But the Christian broke in: "My life has moved in other paths than
yours, and what has happened to me, the freedwoman and the Christian,
can have no interest for you. But the saying which has stirred your
soul refers to the coming of One who is all in all to us Christians. Did
Andrew tell you nothing of His life?"

"Only a little," answered the girl, "but I would gladly hear more of
Him."

Then the Christian seated herself at Melissa's side, and, clasping the
maiden's hand in hers, told her of the birth of the Saviour, of His
loving heart, and His willing death as a sacrifice for the sins of the
whole world. The girl listened with attentive ear. With no word did she
interrupt the narrative, and the image of the Crucified One rose before
her mind's eye, pure and noble, and worthy of all love. A thousand
questions rose to her lips, but, before she could ask one, the Christian
was called away to attend the lady Berenike, and Melissa was again
alone.

What she had already heard of the teaching of the Christians occurred
to her once more, and above all that first saying from the sacred
Scriptures which had attracted her attention, and about which she
had just asked Johanna. Perhaps for her, too, the time was already
fulfilled, when she had taken courage to defy the emperor's commands.

She rejoiced at this action, for she felt that the strength would never
fail her now to set her will against his. She felt as though she bore a
charm against his power since she had parted from her lover, and since
the murder of the governor had opened her eyes to the true character
of him on whom she had all too willingly expended her pity. And yet she
shuddered at the thought of meeting the emperor again, and of having
to show him that she felt safe