Sirona could not find a word in reply. She had expected to be expelled
as a castaway when she came down the mountain, losing her way in the
darkness. Her sandals were cut by the sharp rocks, and hung in strips to
her bleeding feet, her beautiful hair was tumbled by the night-wind, and
her white robe looked like a ragged beggar's garment, for she had torn it
to make bandages for Polykarp's wound.

Some hours had already passed since she had left her patient--her heart
full of dread for him and of anxiety as to the hard reception she might
meet with from his parents.

How her hand shook with fear of Petrus and Dorothea as she raised the
brazen knocker of the senator's door, and now--a father, a mother, a
sister opened their arms to her, and an affectionate home smiled upon
her. Her heart and soul overflowed with boundless emotion and unlimited
thankfulness, and weeping loudly, she pressed her clasped hands to her
breast.

But she spared only a few moments for the enjoyment of these feelings of
delight, for there was no happiness for her without Polykarp, and it was
for his sake that she had undertaken this perilous night-journey.
Marthana had tenderly approached her, but she gently put her aside,
saying, "Not just now, dear girl. I have already wasted an hour, for I
lost my way in the ravines. Get ready Petrus to come back to the
mountain with me at once, for--but do not be startled Dorothea, Paulus
says that the worst danger is over, and if Polykarp--"

"For God's sake, do you know where he is?" cried Dorothea, and her
cheeks crimsoned while Petrus turned pale, and, interrupting her, asked