"No, no, my child! you will forget all this as soon as possible; I know
of a nobler Bridegroom for you; when once you have learned to know Him
you will never long for any other. Have you seen one single image in
this house?"

"No," replied Arsinoe, "but so far as regards Pollux--"

"Listen to me" said the widow, "have I not told you of our loving Father
in Heaven? Have I not told you that the gods of the heathen are unreal
beings which the vain imaginings of fools have endowed with all the
weaknesses and crimes of humanity? Can you not understand how silly it
is to pray to stones? What power can reside in these frail figures of
brass or marble?

"Idols we call them. He who carves them, serves them and offers
sacrifice to them; aye and a great sacrifice, for he devotes his best
powers, to their service. Do you understand me?"

"No--Art is certainly a lofty thing, and Pollux is a good man, full of
the divinity as he works."

"Wait a while, only wait--you will soon learn to understand," Paulina
had answered, drawing Arsinoe towards her, and had added, at first
speaking gently but then more sternly: "Now go to bed and pray to your
gracious Father in Heaven that he may enlighten your heart. You must
forget the carved image-maker, and I forbid you ever to speak in my
presence again of such a man."

Arsinoe had grown up a heathen, she clung with affection to the gods of
her fathers and hoped for happier days after the first bitterness of the
loss of her father and the separation from her brothers and sisters was
past. She was little disposed to sacrifice her young love and all
her earthly happiness for spiritual advantages of which she scarcely
comprehended the value. Her father had always spoken of the Christians
with hatred and contempt. She now saw that they could be kind and
helpful, and the doctrine that there was a loving God in Heaven who
cared for all men as his children appealed to her soul; but that we
ought to forgive our enemies, to remember our sins, and to repent of
them, and to regard all the pleasure and amusement which the gay city
of Alexandria could offer as base and worthless--this was absurd and
foolish.

And what great sins had she committed? Could a loving God require of
her that she should mar all her best days because as a child she had
pilfered a cake or broken a pitcher; or, as she grew older had sometimes
been obstinate or disobedient? Surely not. And then was an artist, a
kind faithful so