We flee, with other Christians, from Alexandria, today. Farewell."

The mother lifted her face, and her cry rang through the room, "O my
sons, my sons!"

She had execrated Timokles at times when she had spoken of him
before Heraklas, and he had thought that the execration came from
her heart. But she had longed, with pain unspeakable, to see
Timokles once more. And now, when she knew that he had been in
Alexandria, that he needed a mother's care, that Heraklas, also, had
owned allegiance to the Christians' God--when she thought of
Christians burned, beheaded, given to wild beasts--when she realized
that perhaps she should never see again the face of Timokles or
Heraklas, the heart of the mother broke within her, and she wailed,
"O my sons! My sons!"

"Hush!" warned the messenger, quickly. "Thy slaves will hear thee!"

The mother seized the messenger's arm.

"Tell me where my sons are," she begged. "I will go to them!"

The messenger looked piercingly at her. He, a Christian, had risked
much to bring her this message. Dare he trust this woman, known to
be a devout worshiper of Egypt's gods? Would she not betray the
fleeing Christians?

"What is it, my mother?" he asked gently.--See page 37.

"Tell me where my sons are!" besought the mother with tears. "Oh,