r her--lost husband and brother--oh that horrible heathen
confusion!--The departed Osiris. The wailing widow, who called on him to
return with "the silent speech of tears," was that queen of the
idolater's devils whose shameful worship her father had often spoke of
with horror. Still, this dirge was so true and noble, so penetrated with
fervent, agonized grief, that it had gone to her heart. The sorrowing
Mother of God, Mary herself, might thus have besought the resurrection of
her Son; just thus must the "God-like maid"--as she was called in the
Arian confession of her father--have uttered her grief, her prayers, and
her longings.

But it was all a heathen delusion, all the trickery and jugglery of the
Devil, though she had failed to see through it, and had given herself up
to it, heart and soul. Nay, worse! for after she had learnt that Gorgo
was to represent Isis and she herself Nephthys, the sister of the divine
pair, she had opposed the suggestion but feebly, even though she knew
that they were to sing the hymn together in the Temple of Isis; and when
Gorgo had clasped her in her arms with sisterly kindness, begging her not
to spoil her plans but to oblige her in this, she had not repulsed the
tempter with firm decision, but merely asked for time to think it over.

How indeed could she have found the heart to refuse the noble girl, whose
beauty and voice had so struck and fascinated her, when she flung her
arms round her neck, looked into her eyes and earnestly besought her:

"Do it for my sake, to please me. I do not ask you to do anything wicked.
Pure song is acceptable to every god. Think of your lament, if you like,
as being for your own god who suffered on the cross. But I like singing
with you so much; say yes. Do not refuse, for my sake!"

She had thrown her arms so gladly, so much too gladly round the heathen
lady--for she had a loving heart and no one else had ever made it a
return in kind--and clinging closely to her she had said:

"As you will; I will do whatever you like."

Then Orpheus, too, had urged her to oblige Gorgo, and himself, and all of
them; and it had seemed almost impossible to refuse the first request
that the modest youth--to whom she would willingly have granted anything
and everything--had ever made. Still, she had held back; and in her
anxious bewilderment, not daring to think or act, she had tried every
form of excuse and postponement. She would probably have been awkward
enough