As he spoke, Claudius took the old man roughly by the arm, and setting him on his feet, raised the body of the dead maiden in his arms, and bidding the Jew follow him, went down to the road below. * * * * * The long, dark hours had passed slowly in the dungeon, where, after the cruel scene of the morning, Agatha and Anna had sat together, waiting for death. Anna had revived when she had swallowed a few drops of cold water, and Agatha, though utterly exhausted herself, seating herself by the wall, had gathered the girl tenderly into her maternal arms, and revived her, as best she could, by chafing her cold hands, and pressing her close to her bosom. Then, while Agatha watched, Anna had slept at intervals, and the elder woman did her best to encourage and comfort the younger. “It has been a fearsome day and fiery trial for thee, Anna,” Agatha said. “How wilt thou bear the morrow?” “I think,” said poor Anna, in a low but firm voice, “I think I can bear my own pain better than witnessing that of another.” “Thou hast no lurking fear, then, that when the trial comes thou wilt deny thy Lord?” “Nay,” Anna said, “I, who have been so weak-hearted, feel that He gives me strength; and, Agatha, I have had a wondrous and beautiful dream. I dreamed I saw the golden city, and the great gates, through which only the pure of heart can pass. There was a soft light all round, like the light in the atrium when all the silver lamps were kindled, and there was the murmur of many waters. Then, as I stood at the gates, afraid to enter, I heard a voice say, ‘Come up hither.’ “I answered, ‘I dare not; I am only a slave, a poor slave;’ and the voice said-- “‘I have bought thee with a price, and thou art Mine.’ And then, Agatha, I saw my own beautiful little mistress, Hyacintha. I wondered to see her there, standing at the gate. I thought it must be the temple of Vesta, and not the Holy City. My mistress was still a child, yet not a child. She wore a long white robe, and her figure was tall and stately. Her hair was bound with a gold fillet, which made a shining circle around her head. She held out her arms to me, and said-- “‘Anna! Anna!’ Then I wondered why she called me Anna, for I had ever been Ebba to her--Ebba, the British slave-girl. Then she said-- “‘I have come to meet thee at the gate. I have come to bid thee welcome; the Lord has sent me for thee.’ “I marvelled much how that could be, for I knew my little mistress was to be a priestess of the goddess Vesta, and that she must worship her, and not the Lord Jesus. “But then the voice of one I could not see, seemed to answer my thoughts, and said--