ly begun.

"Your discourse," replied the bishop, "only confirms my opinion that this
question is one for a higher assembly. We will now close our discussion
of that point, and go on to the care of the poor. Call in the women, my
good Justinius."

The deaconesses came into the room and took seats at the lower end of the
table, Paulina, the widow of Pudeus, taking her place opposite the bishop
in the middle of the other women. She had learnt from Selene's kind nurse
in what pressing difficulties the children of the deceased steward now
found themselves, and that Hannah had promised to assist them.

The deacons first gave their reports of what their works had been among
the poor; after them the women were allowed to speak. Paulina, a tall,
slight woman with black hair faintly streaked with gray, drew from her
dress, which was perfectly plain, but made of particularly soft, fine
white woollen stuff--a tablet that she placed before her, and slowly
raising her eyes and looking at the assembly she said:

"Dame Hannah has a melancholy story to tell you, for which I crave your
sympathy. Will you be so good as to allow her to speak?"

Paulina seemed to feel that she was the hostess to her brethren. She
looked ill and suffering; a line of pain had settled about her lips, and
there were always dark shades under her eyes; still, there was something
firm and decisive in her voice, and her glance was anything rather than
soft and winning. After her commanding tones Hannah's tale sounded as
soft as a song. She described the different natures of the two sisters as
lovingly as though they were her own daughters, each in her own way
seemed to her so worthy of compassion, and she spoke with pathetic lament
of the unprotected, helpless orphans abandoned to misery, and among them
a pretty little blind boy. And she ended her speech by saying:

"The steward's second daughter--she is sixteen and so beautiful that she
must be exposed to every temptation--has now the whole charge of the
nourishment and care of her six young brothers and sisters. Ought we to
withhold from them a protecting hand? No, so surely as we love the
Saviour we ought not. You agree with me? Well then, do not let us delay
our help. The second daughter of the deceased Keraunus is here, in this
house; to-morrow early the children must all quit the palace, and now,
while I am speaking, are at home alone and but ill tended."

The Christian woman's good words fell on kindly