Entering a chamber on the right, Pathema was gently conducted to the bedside of Crito, an invalid boy, his parents' pride and tender care. Crito had received a good education, and, when well, was active, witty and intelligent. But he had been hurt internally while wrestling in the gymnasium with an older lad, and for a time his life hung in the balance. Several days had elapsed since Pathema saw him, and he was now fast asleep. She did not speak, but looked on him awhile with earnest anxious eyes. At length a gleam of hope lit up her face, and she was about to leave softly when Crito, as if conscious of some departing force, suddenly opened his eyes. "Hail! Pathema; steal not thyself away," said he smiling. "I steal but a gem of hope--surely a lighter load," was the laughing answer. "And yet thou hast left it in my breast, thou absent-minded robber." Bending down, Pathema kissed his bosom, saying, "And I am glad to leave it there." "And go forth hopeless?" queried he. "Yes," said she, shaking her head in feigned solemnity, and Crito laughed. Leaving figures of speech, Pathema expressed her joy that there appeared to be good ground for hope. Then they entered into an animated conversation about the Iliad and the Odyssey, books that the Hellenic people used as we do Robinson Crusoe, Shakespeare, and the Bible. Before parting they conversed about the Memoirs of the Apostles, called in our day the Gospels. "I love the Nazarene's moral courage," said Crito. "Yes," replied Pathema, "to be invited, for instance, to dine with a number of the learned, and without personal provocation to feel compelled to denounce them as hypocrites, must have been a severe trial of his courage." "It seems easier to face wounds and the loss of blood than the loss of reputation," rejoined Crito. "It is, but, of course, the full test is to face both. The applause of his comrades, of the whole army and of his nation, fires the spirit of the brave soldier that climbs the frowning walls of a besieged city; but the Nazarene had not the applause of a single soul when He faced the certainty of cruel death upon the cross; worse, there was derision, and He himself even cried out that God had forsaken Him." "The cross means a great deal," said Crito reflectively. "It was endured in love for us," was the reply. "The love was great," remarked the boy. Pathema now rose up to go, and Crito was very sorry; but he knew that there were many other poor and tried ones waiting to welcome her, and he urged himself to resignation. "Come back on the morrow," said he, "and stay with me longer; I weary much for thee." Having kissed her hand respectfully, the boy looked after her wistfully as she departed like a heavenly angel.