crumbled the bread that she had left with her slender fingers, and her
breath now came fast and faster, and now seemed to stop entirely. She
had heard the court-yard gate open, and had recognized Hermas' step.

"He wants to speak to the master, in a moment he will come in, and find
me among these--" thought she, and she involuntarily stroked her hand
over her rough hair to smooth it, and threw a glance at the other slaves,
in which hatred and contempt were equally marked.

But Hermas came not. Not for an instant did she think that her ear had
deceived her--was he waiting now at the door for the conclusion of the
meal? Was his late visit intended for the Gaulish lady, to whom she had
seen him go yesterday again with the wine jar?

Sirona's husband, Phoebicius, as Miriam well knew, was upon the mountain,
and offering sacrifice by moonlight to Mithras with his fellow heathen in
a cave which she had long known. She had seen the Gaul quit the court
during the time of evening-prayer with a few soldiers, two of whom
carried after him a huge coffer, out of which rose the handle of a mighty
cauldron, and a skin full of water, and various vessels. She knew that
these men would pass the whole night in the grotto of Mithras, and there
greet "the young god"--the rising sun--with strange ceremonies; for the
inquisitive shepherdess had more than once listened, when she had led her
goats up the mountain before the break of day, and her ear had detected
that the worshippers of Mithras were performing their nocturnal
solemnities. Now it flashed across her mind, that Sirona was alone, and
that the late visit of Hermas probably concerned her, and not the
senator.

She started, there was quite a pain m her heart, and, as usual, when any