mirrored, I drew a ring from her dear, white, blood-stained hand, and
here under the rough sheepskin I have it yet; and I pray, I pray, I pray
--oh! my heart! My God if it might be--if this is the end--!"

Paulus put his hand to his head, and sank exhausted on the bed, in a deep
swoon. The sick man had followed his story with breathless interest.
Some time since he had risen from his bed, and, unobserved by his
companion, had sunk on his knees; he now dragged himself, all hot and
trembling, to the side of the senseless man, tore the sheep's fell from
his breast, and with hasty movement sought the ring; he found it, and
fixing on it passionate eyes, as though he would melt it with their fire,
he pressed it again and again to his lips, to his heart, to his lips
again; buried his face in his hands and wept bitterly.

It was not till Hermas returned from the oasis that Stephanus thought of
his exhausted and fainting friend, and with his son's assistance restored
him to conscious ness. Paulus did not refuse to take some food and
drink, and in the cool of the evening, when he was refreshed and
invigorated, he sat again by the side of Stephanus, and understood
from the old man that Magdalen was certainly his wife.

"Now I know," said Paulus, pointing to Hermas, "how it is that from the
first I felt such a love for the lad there."

The old man softly pressed his hand, for he felt himself tied to his
friend by a new and tender bond, and it was with silent ecstasy that he
received the assurance that the wife he had always loved, the mother of
his child, had died a Christian and a martyr, and had found before him
the road to Heaven.