s the savior of the oasis. When the wailing women
appeared he knelt once more at the head of his father's bier, cast a last
loving look at Miriam's peaceful face, and then followed his host.

The man and boy crossed the court together. Hermas involuntarily glanced
up at the window where more than once he had seen Sirona, and said, as he
pointed to the centurion's house, "He too fell."

Petrus nodded and opened the door of his house. In the hall, which was
lighted up, Dorothea came hastily to meet him, asking, "No news yet of
Polykarp?"

Her husband shook his head, and she added, "How indeed is it possible? He
will write at the soonest from Klysma or perhaps even from Alexandria."

"That is just what I think," replied Petrus, looking down to the ground.
Then he turned to Hermas and introduced him to his wife.

Dorothea received the young man with warm sympathy; she had heard that
his father had fallen in the fight, and how nobly he too had
distinguished himself. Supper was ready, and Hermas was invited to share
it. The mistress gave her daughter a sign to make preparations for their
guest, but Petrus detained Marthana, and said, "Hermas may fill Antonius'
place; he has still something to do with some of the workmen. Where are
Jethro and the house-slaves?"

"They have already eaten," said Dorothea.

The husband and wife looked at each other, and Petrus said with a
melancholy smile, "I believe they are up on the mountain."

Dorothea wiped a tear from her eye as she replied, "They will meet
Antonius there. If only they could find Polykarp! And yet I honestly
say--not merely to comfort you--it is most probable that he has not met
with any accident in the mountain gorges, but has gone to Alexandria to
escape the memories that follow him here at every step--Was not that the
gate?"

She rose quickly and looked into the court, while Petrus, who had
followed her, did the same, saying with a deep sigh, as he turned to
Marthana--who, while she offered meat and bread to Hermas was watching
her parents--"It was only the slave Anubis."

For some time a painful silence reigned round the large table, to-day so
sparely furnished with guests.

At last Petrus turned to his guest and said, "You were to tell me how the
shepherdess Miriam lost her life in the struggle. She had run away from
our house--"

"Up the mountain," added Hermas. "She supplied my poor father with water
like a daughter."

"You see, mother," interrupted M