Fatigue and hunger, and weariness of body and mind, had dulled the sense of pain for the time; but when her powers were more fully awake, the hideous scenes of the stoning of Amphibalus, the mad shouts of the people, and the darkness of the dungeon, became once more a haunting reality. Then came the bitter fear of what might have been the fate of Agatha, her tender friend, who had been left fainting and ill in darkness and solitude with the dead, while she, who had shared so many dangers with her, was borne away. She reproached herself for cowardice, and in broken words, with many tears, prayed the Jew to let her return towards Radburn. But Ezra was proof against her entreaties, and bade her thank Jehovah for the life He had spared; nor waste strength and time in feeble wailings. “I have lost my only one,” he said, “the only thing left to me in this land of strangers; but I go on towards Rome, the great city, where a company of my people is gathered, and thence to Jerusalem to lay my bones where the prophets and righteous men have laid theirs; nor will I weakly faint or fail of my purpose. I was on my way to the sea coast when this misfortune befel me, to find by chance a little company, with whom my child and I might be protected through Gaul. We push on thither now, and may the Almighty be our strong tower and house of defence.” This prayer was answered, and the longing fulfilled; the Jew and the maiden were mercifully protected from harm. Their quiet, inoffensive bearing, their sorrowful faces and gentle demeanour, served as a shield as they passed through the widely-scattered villages of the old Britons and the more pretentious towns of their conquerors the Romans. They reached the fort of Lyme in safety, and Claudius’s gold pieces purchased their passage across the stormy channel in one of those strangely-built boats, with large curved prow and short mast, which had taken the place of the mud-lined coracles of the conquered race. CHAPTER VI. BY LAND AND SEA. The party under the convoy of Burrhus had embarked from Lyme, in Dorsetshire, very soon after Alban’s martyrdom. The remains of the old harbour, although at a distance from the sea, which has receded from this part of the coast, can still be seen by those who may be curious to discover them. The channel had been smooth, for a great gale had passed over it some days before, and the weather was exceptionally calm and favourable. The pain of parting was over, and Hyacintha and her brother gave themselves up to the full enjoyment of travel, unthinking of the dangers which in reality threatened them, and delighting in the thought that every day brought them nearer to Rome.