Fabiola; Or, The Church of the CatacombsWiseman, Nicholas Patrick
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Fabiola; Or, The Church of the Catacombs
Wiseman, Nicholas Patrick
Christian fiction; Church history -- Primitive and early church, ca. 30-600 -- Fiction; Historical fiction
She could not indeed see this; yet it was no less true; and wearied, at
length she sought repose. But she too had a distressing dream. She saw a
bright spot as in a delicious garden, richly illuminated by a light like
noonday, but inexpressibly soft; while all around was dark. Beautiful
flowers formed the sward, plants covered with richest bloom grew
festooned from tree to tree, on each of which glowed golden fruit. In
the midst of this space she saw the poor blind girl, with her look of
happiness on her cheerful countenance, seated on the ground; while on
one side, Agnes, with her sweetest simple looks, and on the other, Syra,
with her quiet patient smile, hung over her and caressed her. Fabiola
felt an irresistible desire to be with them; it seemed to her that they
were enjoying some felicity which she had never known or witnessed; and
she thought they even beckoned her to join them. She ran forward to do
so, when to her horror she found a wide, and black, and deep ravine, at
the bottom of which roared a torrent between herself and them. By
degrees its waters rose, till they reached the upper margin of the dyke,
and there flowed, though so deep, yet sparkling and brilliant, and most
refreshing. Oh, for courage to plunge into this stream, through which
alone the gorge could be crossed, and land in safety on the other side!
And still they beckoned, urging her on to try it. But as she was
standing on the brink, clasping her hands in despair, Calpurnius seemed
to emerge from the dark air around, with a thick heavy curtain stretched
out, on which were worked all sorts of monstrous and hideous chimeras,
most curiously running into, and interwoven with, each other; and this
dark veil grew and grew, till it shut out the beautiful vision from her
sight. She felt disconsolate, till she seemed
[Illustration: Our Saviour, from a representation found in the
Catacombs.]
to see a bright genius (as she called him), in whose features she
fancied she traced a spiritualized resemblance to Sebastian, and whom
she had noticed standing sorrowful at a distance, now approach her, and,
smiling on her, fan her fevered face with his gold and purple wing; when
she lost her vision in a calm and refreshing sleep.
CHAPTER IX.
MEETINGS.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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