visit them, and Dada had promised, on behalf of Marcus, that Agne and her
brother should always be provided for, even in the event of the good
Deacon's death. The little boy was for the moment placed in Eusebius'
care, and it was a, cause of daily rejoicing to Agne to hear from the
kind old man of all the charming qualities he discovered in the child who
was perfectly happy with the old folks, and who, though he was always
delighted to see his sister, was quite content to part from her and
return home with Eusebius, or with Dada, to whole he was devoted.

Orpheus recognized no one, neither Agne nor the child--and when visitors
had been to see him, in his fevered ravings he would talk more vehemently
than ever of great Apollo and other heathen divinities. Then he would
fancy that he was still fighting in the Serapeum and butchering thousands
of Christian foes with his own hand. Agne, whom he rarely recognized for
a moment, would talk soothingly to him, and even try to say a few words
about the Saviour and the life to come; but he always interrupted her
with blasphemous exclamations, and cursed and abused her. Never had she
gone through such anguish of soul as by his bed of suffering, and yet she
could not help gazing at his face; and when she told herself that he must
soon be no more, that the light of his eyes would cease to shine on hers,
she felt as though the sun were about to be extinguished and the earth
darkened for all time. However, his healthy vigor kept him lingering for
many days and nights.

On the last evening of his life he took Agne for a Muse, and calling to
her to come to him seized her hand and sank back unconscious, never to
move again. She stood there as the minutes slowly passed, waiting in
agonized suspense till his hand should be cold in hers; and as she waited
she overheard a dialogue between two deaconesses who were watching by a
sleeping patient. One of them was telling the other that her sister's