"Better? No; worse, a thousand times. Not worthy to stand amongst you as one of Christ's martyrs. But since He has this joy to give to me, the last and least, think what gifts He must have for _you_, His true and faithful servants!" "Certainly He will not forsake us in the hour of death," Kaspar said. "Baron Thomassian, I take this answer of God to your prayer as a token of good for us all." "My mind is made up," said a quiet, elderly man, who had not spoken hitherto. "Let them do their worst. I stand by the Lord Christ; and I trust the Lord Christ to stand by me." Then Dikran, the youngest of them all, spoke up too. "I think it is scarce so hard for me as for the rest of you. For I am an orphan, and my only brother was killed in the fighting two months ago. All through, it was not death, it was agony I feared. But now, I know Christ will help me through that." "And He will care for those we leave after us," another said in a low voice. "Yon Effendi, _you_ have not spoken yet," said Kaspar. John Grayson started, as if from a dream. "There is only one thing to say," he answered firmly, "I stand by Christ." "So likewise said they all." In prayer, and mutual counsel-taking and encouragement the long night wore on. Amongst them all, there was only one who slept. Worn out with his long and bitter conflict, and at rest in the ineffable peace in which it ended, Thomassian fell into a dreamless sleep, with his head pillowed on John Grayson's knee. Jack himself feared to sleep, on account of the waking that must follow. He prayed, thought of his past life, of his father and all his friends; above all, of Shushan. Often his mind would wander for a little amongst unconsidered, half-forgotten trifles, but it always turned back again to the things which made its home. The morning light stole at last through their narrow grated window. Thomassian stirred, and sat up. He looked round upon them all with a smile; but his eyes grew grave and full of thought as they rested on the face of John Grayson, who, just then, was absorbed in what he thought might be his last prayer for Shushan. "Yon Effendi," he said, "are you ready to die?" Jack looked at him steadily for a moment, then bowed his head in silence. "But you would rather live, if it were the will of God? Is it not so?" "I do not seem to care _now_, not greatly," Jack said. "It seems easy to die _now_, with you all. But"--his voice sank low--"but there is Shushan." "And if I can, in some slight measure, atone for the harm I have done you, you will be glad, for her sake? But do not build on it--it is but a chance. Rather, since there is no chance really, it will be as God wills." "Hush!" some one suddenly exclaimed. The key was grating in the door. In another minute it was thrown open, and the jailor entered. He did not waste words. "Come," he said. The band of confessors rose to their feet, and looked one another in the face.