brothers and sisters, and heard the Truth."

"What will be the outcome of it all, Virgilia?" Martius spoke
earnestly in her ear. "When mother is well, what will happen? Thou
dost remember what she said, that we must both leave this roof? I try
to forget those cruel words, I try to believe that I shall stay here,
to work in my father's office, to take up his profession, to be in
that dearest place of all--home. It is hard to be exiled, Virgilia,
hard never to see Rome again, Rome, the centre of the world. But if it
should be hard for me, what will it be for thee, so tenderly matured,
so lovingly cared for? It cannot be possible that Claudia will thrust
thee, her own daughter, forth from her door, simply because thou hast
become a follower of Christus. No. It is only a bad dream."

That Martius was deeply in earnest could be seen from his clenched
hands, where the nails sank into the flesh, from the pallor of his
cheeks and the sorrow in his eyes.

"Neither can I believe it. Martius, by nature, mother is not cruel. It
is only our religion that she hates, not us. But when the moment comes
that she asks me to give up Christ, I will face hunger and privation,
even death, itself, for His sweet sake."

The light of that exaltation which filled the martyrs of ancient days
with strength to face a shameful and awful death was on Virgilia's
face, it was the look of a saint.

Martius was thrilled by her enthusiasm.

"And I, too, dear sister, will never deny my Saviour. We will go forth