“Then promise me, that you will immediately apply your mind to master the doctrines of Christianity. I know you will embrace them; and then you will no longer be to me what you are now.” “And what is that?” “Dark, dark, dearest Fabiola. When I look upon you thus, I see in you a noble intellect, a generous disposition, an affectionate heart, a cultivated mind, a fine moral feeling, and a virtuous life. What can be desired more in woman? and yet over all these splendid gifts there hangs a cloud, to my eyes, of gloomy shadow, the shade of death. Drive it away, and all will be lightsome and bright.” “I feel it, dear Agnes,--I feel it. Standing before you, I seem to be as a black spot compared to your brightness. And how, embracing Christianity, shall I become light like you?” “You must pass, Fabiola, through the torrent that sunders us” (Fabiola started, recollecting her dream). “Waters of refreshment shall flow over your body, and oil of gladness shall embalm your flesh; and the soul shall be washed clean as driven snow, and the heart be softened as the babe’s. From that bath you will come forth a new creature, born again to a new and immortal life.” “And shall I lose all that you have but just now prized in me?” asked Fabiola, somewhat downcast. “As the gardener,” answered the martyr, “selects some hardy and robust, but unprofitable plant, and on it engrafts but a small shoot of one that is sweet and tender, and the flowers and fruits of this belong to the first, and yet deprive it of no grace, no grandeur, no strength that it had before, so will the new life you shall receive ennoble, elevate, and sanctify (you can scarcely understand this word), the valuable gifts of nature and education which you already possess. What a glorious being Christianity will make you, Fabiola!” “What a new world you are leading me to, dear Agnes! Oh, that you were not leaving me outside its very threshold!” “Hark!” exclaimed Agnes, in an ecstasy of joy. “They come, they come! _You_ hear the measured tramp of the soldiers in the gallery. They are the bridesmen coming to summon me. But I see on high the white-robed bridesmaids borne on the bright clouds of morning, and beckoning me forward. Yes, my lamp is trimmed, and I go forth to meet the Bridegroom. Farewell, Fabiola; weep not for me. Oh, that I could make you feel, as I do, the happiness of dying for Christ! And now I will speak a word to you which I never have addressed to you before,--God bless you!” And she made the sign of the Cross on Fabiola’s forehead. An embrace, convulsive on Fabiola’s part, calm and tender on Agnes’s, was their last earthly greeting. The one hastened home, filled with a new and generous purpose; the other resigned herself to the shame-stricken guard.