He found the sick man in great anxiety, for he had waited until now for his son in vain, and feared that Hermas had met with some accident—­or had abandoned him, and fled out into the world.  Paulus soothed him with gentle words, and told him of the errand on which he had sent the lad to the farther coast of the sea.

We are never better disposed to be satisfied with even bad news than when we have expected it to be much worse; so Stephanus listened to his friend’s explanation quite calmly, and with signs of approval.  He could no longer conceal from himself that Hermas was not ripe for the life of an anchorite, and since he had learned that his unhappy wife—­whom he had so long given up for lost—­had died a Christian, he found that he could reconcile his thoughts to relinquishing the boy to the world.  He had devoted himself and his son to a life of penance, hoping and striving that so Glycera’s soul might be snatched from damnation, and now he knew that she herself had earned her title to Heaven.

“When will he come home again?” he asked Paulus.

“In five or six days,” was the answer.  “Ali, the fisherman—­out of whose foot I took a thorn some time since—­informed me secretly, as I was going to church yesterday, that the Blemmyes are gathering behind the sulphur-mountains; when they have withdrawn, it will be high time to send Hermas to Alexandria.  My brother is still alive, and for my sake he will receive him as a blood-relation, for he too has been baptized.”

“He may attend the school of catechumens in the metropolis, and if he—­if he—­”

“That we shall see,” interrupted Paulus.  “For the present it comes to this, we must let him go from hence, and leave him to seek out his own way.  You fancy that there may be in heaven a place of glory for such as have never been overcome, and you would fain have seen Hermas among them.  It reminds me of the physician of Corinth, who boasted that he was cleverer than any of his colleagues, for that not one of his patients had ever died.  And the man was right, for neither man nor beast had ever trusted to his healing arts.  Let Hermas try his young strength, and even if he be no priest, but a valiant warrior like his forefathers, even so he may honestly serve God.  But it will be a long time before all this comes to pass.  So long as he is away I will attend on you—­you still have some water in your jar?”

“It has twice been filled for me,” said the old man.  “The brown shepherdess, who so often waters her goats at our spring, came to me the first thing in the morning and again about two hours ago; she asked after Hermas, and then offered of her own accord to fetch water for me so long as he was away.  She is as timid as a bird, and flew off as soon as she had set down the jug.”