"Hast thou come back cured, Martius? Then art thou indeed welcome."
"Cured of what, mother?"
"Of thy mistaken worship of Christus."
"No, mother," came the firm reply. Aurelius saw his son's face pale,
saw him straighten up as though he expected a blow on those broad
shoulders, saw his hand clench as if he were in pain. And Aurelius was
sorrowful. He loved Martius for himself and for his mother, whom he
resembled. The lawyer was also, only too well aware of the danger run
by all those who called themselves followers of Christus. The worst
had not yet come. There were only threats now against the members of
this sect who were growing daily more numerous, and more menacing to
the priests and the pagan religion. No one could tell what might
happen by to-morrow, the storm would break suddenly.
He knew Claudia and her blind bigotry. She would not hesitate to
sacrifice Martius if she thought that her soul's salvation depended on
it; Claudia's soul was her chief thought. But would she sacrifice her
own daughter, if her religion should prove to be the same as that of
her brother?
The sister had slipped her hand into that of Martius.
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