She must have been discussing some grave questions with the old man, for, as the young man entered the room, she colored slightly and her long, taper fingers impatiently tapped the back of the couch on which she was lounging.

Marcus kissed first the priest’s hand and then his mother’s, and, after enquiring with filial anxiety after her health, informed her that Demetrius would presently be coming to take leave of her.

“How condescending?” she said coldly.  “You know reverend Father what it is that I require of him and that he refuses.  His peasants—­always his peasants!  Now can you tell me why they, who must feel the influence and power of their masters so much more directly than the lower class in towns, they, whose weal or woe so obviously depends on the will of the Most High, are so obstinately set against the Gospel of Salvation?”

“They cling to what they are used to,” replied the old man.  “The seed they sow bore fruit under the old gods; and as they cannot see nor handle our Heavenly Father as they can their idols, and at the same time have nothing better to hope for than a tenth or a twentieth of the grain. . .”

“Yes, mine and thine—­the miserable profit of this world!” sighed the widow.  “Oh!  Demetrius can defend the idolatry of his favorites warmly enough, never fear.  If you can spare the time, good Father, stay and help me to convince him.”

“I have already stayed too long,” replied the priest, “for the Bishop has commanded my presence.  I should like to speak to you, my dear Marcus; to-morrow morning, early, will you come to me?  The Lord be with you, beloved!”

He rose, and as he gave Mary his hand she detained him a moment signing to her son to leave them, and said in a low tone: 

“Marcus must not suspect that I know of the error into which he has been led; speak roundly to his conscience, and as to the girl, I will take her in hand.  Will it not be possible for Theophilus to grant me an interview?”

“Hardly, at present,” replied the priest.  “As you know, Cynegius is here and the fate of the Bishop and of our cause hangs on the next few days.  Give up your ambitious desires I beseech you, daughter, for even if Theophilus were to admit you I firmly believe, nay—­do not be angry—­I can but hope that he would never give way on this point.”

“No?” said the widow looking down in some embarrassment; but when her visitor was gone she lifted her head with a flash of wilful defiance.

She then made Marcus, who had on the previous day given her a full account of his voyage from Rome, tell her all that had passed between himself and Demetrius; she asked him how he liked his horse, whether he hoped to win the approaching races, and generally what he had been doing and was going to do.  But it did not escape her notice that Marcus was more reticent than usual and that he tried to bring the conversation round to his voyage and to the guests in the Xenodochium; however, she always stopped him, for she knew what he was aiming at and would not listen to anything on that subject.