of the
Syrian martyrs. Theophilus had been most unwilling hitherto to reject the
petitions of so good and illustrious Christian as Mary; and now, after
such ample testimony as to the manner of her husband's death, it was with
sincere satisfaction that he bestowed this high mark of honor on the
Christian victor and his admirable mother. "So now," added the young man,
"I shall fly home, and how happy my mother will be. . . ."

But Demetrius would not allow him to finish his sentence. He laid his
hand on the young man's shoulder saying: "Patience, my dear fellow,
patience! You must stay with me for the present, and not go to your
mother till I have settled everything that is necessary. Do not
contradict me I entreat you, unless you want to deprive me of the
happiness of remedying an injustice to your pretty Dada. What you most
desire for yourself and her is your mother's blessing--and do you think
that will be easy to obtain? Far from it, lad! But I can manage it for
you; and I will, too, if only you will do as I bid you, and if the old
Heathen's niece can be induced to be baptized. . . ."

"She is a Christian already!" exclaimed Marcus eagerly.

"Well then, she can be yours to-morrow," Demetrius went on calmly, "if
you listen to the advice of your older and wiser brother. It cannot be
very hard upon you, for you must own that if I had not fought it out with
Anubis--and the rascal bit all he could reach like a trapped fox--if I
had not got him locked up and almost run my legs off in hunting down the
worthy abbot, our father would never have enjoyed the promotion which he
is at last to obtain. Who would ever have believed that I should get any
satisfaction out of this 'Crown of Martyrdom'? By the gods! It is by no
means impossible, and I hope the manes of the deceased will forgive me
for your sake. But it is getting late, so only one thing more: for my own
share of the business all I claim is my right to tell your mother myself
of all that has occurred; you, on your part, must go at once to Eusebius
and beg him to receive Dada in his house. If he consents--and he
certainly will--take him with you to our uncle Porphyrius and wait there
till I come; then, if all goes well, I will take you and Dada to your
mother--or, if not, we will go with Eusebius."

"Dada to my mother!" cried Marcus. "But what will she. . . ."

"She will receive her as a daughter," interrupted his brother, "if you
hold your tongue about the whole busi