is past. He
signs himself with the holy cross, and sweet reviving thoughts enliven
him. He names the sacred Name, and it is like ointment poured out upon his
soul. He rises; he kneels down under the dread symbol of his salvation;
and he begins his evening prayer.

CHAPTER IV.

JUBA.

There was more of heart, less of effort, less of mechanical habit, in
Agellius's prayers that night, than there had been for a long while
before. He got up, struck a light, and communicated it to his small
earthen lamp. Its pale rays feebly searched the room and discovered at the
other end of it Juba, who had silently opened the door, and sat down near
it, while his brother was employed upon his devotions. The countenance of
the latter fell, for he was not to go to sleep with the resignation and
peace which had just before been poured into his breast. Yet why should he
complain? we receive consolation in this world for the very purpose of
preparing us against trouble to come. Juba was a tall, swarthy,
wild-looking youth. He was holding his head on one side as he sat, and his
face towards the roof; he nodded obliquely, arched his eyebrows, pursed up
his lips, and crossed his arms, while he gave utterance to a strange,
half-whispered laugh.

"He, he, he!" he cried; "so you are on your knees, Agellius."

"Why shouldn't I be at this hour," answered Agellius, "and before I go to
bed?"

"O, every one to his taste, of course," said Juba; "but to an unprejudiced
mind there is something unworthy in the act."

"Why, Juba?" said his brother somewhat sharply; "don't you profess any
religion at all?"

"Perhaps I do, and perhaps I don't," answered Juba; "but never shall it be
a bowing and scraping, crawling and cringing religion. You may take your
oath of that."

"What ails you to come here at this time of night?" asked Agellius; "who
asked for your company?"

"I will come just when I please," said the other, "and go when I please. I
won't give an account of my actions to any one, God or man, devil or
priest, much less to you. What right have you to ask me?"

"Then," said Agellius, "you'll never get peace or comfort as long as you
live, that I can tell you, let alone the life to come."

Juba kept silent for awhile, and bit his nails with a smile on his face,
and his eyes looking askance upon the ground. "I want no more than I have;
I am well content," he said.