to the Christians, and acknowledged the unseen God, it seemed
like an insult to his father's success. He drove the boy from
his door and disinherited him.

The glittering portico of the serene, haughty house, the
repose of the well-ordered garden, still blooming with belated
flowers, seemed at once to deride and to invite the young
outcast plodding along the dusty road. "This is your
birthright," whispered the clambering rose-trees by the gate; and
the closed portals of carven bronze said: "You have sold it for
a thought--a dream."'



II

Hermas found the Grove of Daphne quite deserted. There was no
sound in the enchanted vale but the rustling of the light
winds chasing each other through the laurel thickets, and the
babble of innumerable streams. Memories of the days and
nights of delicate pleasure that the grove had often seen
still haunted the bewildered paths and broken fountains. At
the foot of a rocky eminence, crowned with the ruins of
Apollo's temple, which had been mysteriously destroyed by fire
just after Julian had restored and reconsecrated it, Hermas
sat down beside a gushing spring, and gave himself up to
sadness.

"How beautiful the world would be, how joyful, how easy to
live in, without religion! These questions about unseen