“Nay, for thou wilt open thy eyes in a glorious light instead of in this black, chill cell,” Agatha replied. Thus the two poor prisoners talked to one another, and comforted one another with the words of Him who had gone the rugged way before them; and the shadow of the dark valley--for they looked for death on the morrow--was brightened for them by the presence of their Lord. Presently Anna said-- “They are pulling back the bolts! they are unlocking the gate! Are they at hand who will kill us, here in the darkness?” Agatha sat upright and listened; yes, there was the slow, grating noise made by the pulling back of heavy bolts, and the rusty key turned in the rude hole which formed a lock. Then the heavy gate opened, a draught of chill air came in, and some one was evidently entering slowly, as one who bore a burden. No one spoke, the door was closed, and then a lamp or lanthorn, formed with a wick floating in oil, was uncovered, and showed a tall young man, standing by the prostrate figure which he had evidently just deposited at his feet. “Another prisoner!” Agatha exclaimed. “Sir, what brings you here?” Anna, shading her dazed eyes with her hands, exclaimed, “It is the noble Claudius, the friend of my young mistress Hyacintha!” “Yes, it is I. I was with Valens in the expedition; you saw me then.” “We saw you, young Claudius,” Agatha said, “and may God forgive your part in the slaughter of that cruel day. Are you come to end our sufferings with your sword? If it be so, hasten your work.” “Nay,” Claudius said; “nay, I have sworn a solemn oath to save Ebba, the British slave, if it lay in my power. There is only one way by which I can do it; this dead girl shall be left here, and Ebba shall come forth with me, to take her place with her father, whom I have, under cover of the darkness, hidden in the thick brushwood just beyond the village. Thither I will guide Ebba, leaving the dead girl with you, and taking the living one to a place of safety.” Anna clasped her hands. “I cannot, I cannot come,” she said. “I will remain here to die.” “Nay, that must not be,” said Claudius. “I swore to the pure fair maiden who was your mistress, and who loved you so well, to save your life. I must perform my vow. See here, you elder woman, I shall return to-morrow to lead you out at the Governor’s command. I call upon you to make no sign whereby you betray that this poor child lying at your feet is other than the Christian who was present with you yesterday. If you do make that sign, you will cost me my life. If not, I will order the soldiers to kindle a funeral pile, and all that will be left of this poor child, whom her father calls Rachel, will be burned to ashes before the sun sets to-morrow. Now,” said Claudius, “I have not a moment to lose,” and stooping, he raised Anna in his strong arms, and was striding away with her, when Agatha said,