“Yes, I would, wife, for that dear maid’s sake,” and he took Miriam’s little hand in his great palm and pressed it.  “Listen now,” he went on, “Miriam, the Jewish captive, has dwelt in our care these many months, has she not, as is known to all, is it not?  Well, if any one wants to find her, where will they begin by looking?”

“Aye! where?” echoed Nehushta.

“Why should any one wish to find her?” asked Julia.  “She was bought in the slave-market for a great price by the lord Marcus, who, of his own will, has set her at liberty.  Now, therefore, she is a free woman whom none can touch.”

“A free woman!” answered Gallus with scorn.  “Is any woman free in Rome upon whom Domitian has set his mind?  Surely, you Christians are too innocent for this world.  Peace now, for there is no time to lose.  Julia, do you cloak yourself and go seek that high-priest of yours, Cyril, who also loves this maid.  Tell the tale to him, and say that if he would save her from great dangers he had best find some secret hiding-place among the Christians, for her and her companion, until means can be found to ship them far from Rome.  What think you of that plan, my Libyan friend?”

“I think that it is good, but not good enough,” answered Nehushta.  “I think that we had best depart with the lady, your wife, this very hour, for who can tell how soon the dogs will be laid upon our slot?”

“And what say you, maid Miriam?” asked Gallus.

“I?  Oh!  I thank you for your thought, and I say—­let us hide in any place you will, even a drain or a stable, if it will save me from Domitian.”

Two hours later, in a humble and densely peopled quarter of the city, such as in our own day we should call a slum, where folk were employed making those articles which ministered to the comfort or the luxury of the more fortunate, a certain master-carpenter known as Septimus was seated at his mid-day meal in a little chamber above his workshop.  His hands were rough with toil, and the dust of his trade was upon his garments and even powdered over his long gray beard, so that at first sight it would not have been easy to recognise in him that Cyril who was a bishop among the Christians.  Yet it was he, one of the foremost of the Faith in Rome.

A woman entered the room and spoke with him in a low voice.

“The dame Julia, the wife of Gallus, and two others with her?” he said.  “Well, we need fear none whom she brings; lead them hither.”

Presently the door opened and Julia appeared, followed by two veiled figures.  He raised his hands to bless her, then checked himself.

“Daughter, who are these?” he said.

“Declare yourselves,” said Julia, and at her bidding Miriam and Nehushta unveiled.

At the sight of Miriam’s face the bishop started, then turned to study that of her companion.

“Who vouches for this woman?” he asked.

“I vouch for myself,” answered Nehushta, “seeing that I am a Christian who received baptism a generation since at the hands of the holy John, and who stood to pay the price of faith in the arena at Caesarea.”