of Osiris, and had left the sacred island, probably never to return thither.

Presently he said

"I am here, mother, because those whom I looked on as my brethren have dared to suspect my truth and fidelity. The priests of Philæe were furiously exasperated when they found that two Christians had intruded into the holy island, and even had entered the temple; but when they became aware that these followers of the Nazarene had escaped their intended vengeance, and had also carried off Medora and Pyrrha, and two of the temple servants, their rage knew no bounds. I could not express any regret that my sisters had been delivered from their cruel hands; and therefore they accused me of conniving at, and even assisting, their flight. Had I done so, I should have been fully justified, for I have never sanctioned cruelty; but I was innocent of the charge, as I was also of any infidelity towards the gods of Egypt. I indignantly rejected their accusations, and I retorted upon them their inhumanity, their avarice, and their ambition. Then I proved their treachery. My friend, Manethes, warned me of the danger which threatened me, as he had previously warned me of the peril to which Claudia and Alypius were exposed; and I left the island. I love the faith in which I have lived, and in which I hope to die; but I hate and despise the treachery and the cruelty of some who profess to serve the gods, but who only serve themselves, and seek for their own aggrandizement."

Orestes had seldom expressed himself so vehemently, or displayed such strong feelings. His mother and sisters were astonished, but they were not displeased; for they hoped that

his disgust with his priestly brethren might in due time lead him to a more unprejudiced comparison between the religion that sanctioned their conduct, and the pure, and holy, and selfdenying doctrines and precepts of the gospel. This was not, however, a time to urge this comparison upon the offended Orestes-it must be deferred to a more fitting opportunity.

Marcella's present care was to secure for Alypius a kindly reception, not only from her husband, but from her son likewise. She told Orestes of all that he had done and suffered in Medora's defence since he had assisted in her escape from Philæ; she dwelt on his noble and generous character, which she had discerned and appreciated even at the time of their first acquaintance; and then, observing that he manifested no displeasure at her praises of the brave young Christian, she mentioned that Sophis had desired an interview with him, and had sent Cleon to bring him to his presence.

This intelligence caused a considerable perturbation in the breasts of the audience; and Marcella watched each countenance, and read with interest the various feelings which were there depicted. On Claudia's features she saw an expression of unmingled pleasure and satisfaction. She rejoiced in the fact just announced, and she also rejoiced that her darling Cleon had been the means of bringing it to pass.

Medora's countenance expressed a greater mixture of feelings. There was joy, unmistakable joy, at the thought of Alypius being admitted into her father's house; there was embarrassment at the consciousness that her mother and sister, and perhaps her brother also, were observing her evident emotion;

and there was fear, anxious fear, as to what might be the consequences of the impending interview.

Orestes was more accustomed to conceal and suppress his feelings than his sisters were; but the mother's eye read great anxiety and great determination in his face. He rose up from his seat and said,

"I must see my father. From Claudia's account of his weakened state of health, I feel sure that he is not equal to conversing with a stranger and a foreigner such as the Roman student."

He laid an ominous emphasis on the words "stranger and foreigner," and as he did so he fixed a searching glance on Medora's blushing face and downcast eyes; and then he left the room to assist at the conference in his father's chamber.

It was a long one; at least it appeared so to the three ladies who remained in the saloon, and tried to appear unconcerned, and to occupy themselves with their embroidery, and with indifferent conversation.

We will not repeat all that passed by the bedside of Sophis. Suffice it to say, that a full avowal of his sentiments, his hopes, and his prospects was made by Alypius, and listened to by Sophis with a patience and serenity that were utterly incomprehensible, and by no means agreeable to his son.

Still the habitual reverence which Orestes had ever paid to his father kept him silent; until Alypius actually ventured to ask for the hand of Medora, whom he regarded as the affianced bride of his friend Muthis.

Then he could be silent no longer; and he indignantly asked

Alypius whether he did not know that his sister was betrothed to a noble and wealthy Egyptian ?

What was his astonishment, we might add his burning shame, when Sophis interrupted him, and told him the story of Muthis's treachery, and his cruel schemes! "What!" he exclaimed bitterly, "all in whom I trusted-have all deceived me ? I will put no more confidence in man!"

Then he left the room; and soon returned, leading Medora by the hand, followed by Marcella, Claudia, and Cleon.

He approached Alypius, who stood amazed at the unlookedfor aspect of affairs, and said:

"Alypius, you are brave, and I am willing to believe you true. You Christians have, at least, the character of being firm and faithful. You have saved the life of my sister at the peril of your own; and you are worthy to take the place of the dastard who has forfeited all claim to her. Father," he added, turning to Sophis, who was looking on very complacently, "it is your privilege to bestow the hand of your daughter."

He placed the trembling hand of Medora in that of Sophis, who drew Alypius towards him, and then, joining the hands of the amazed, but happy pair, said fervently: "May the one true God, whatever be his name on earth, or his dwelling above the sky, bless and preserve you both."

"So be it!" responded all who stood around the couch of the dying man; for, so far, all were agreed in belief.

death.

CHAPTER XXXI.

OME months had elapsed since the scene which we have just described; and the family of Sophis had laid aside the garments of mourning which they had worn for his

They were now arrayed in festive attire, all but Marcella, who still wore the outward signs of her deep and heartfelt grief. She had, however, much cause for thankfulness and comfort in reflecting on the change which she had seen in her husband before his death, and in the hope of meeting him in a better world.

She did not "sorrow for him as those without hope;" and, therefore, she was able to wear a cheerful countenance on the day that was appointed for the baptism, and also for the marriage, of her beloved Medora.

Calanthe, who had returned home immediately on the arrival of the travellers in Alexandria at the close of their eventful voyage, had come from Tagaste to be present at the ceremonies; and Augustine had accompanied her, at the urgent request of Alypius, his chosen friend, in order to officiate at both the solemn services.

Very solemn they were, though very simple; and deeply were all who assisted at them impressed by the devout manner of Augustine, and the touching prayer which he offered.