When they had passed the last of the huts she managed to look upward.

The evening star stood out clear against the sky, and she seemed to see the other stars revolving quickly round it.

Her mouth was painful and parched, and more than once she had been seized with giddiness, which forced her to hold tightly to the saddle.

Now they stopped beside a large piece of water, and she felt strangely well and light of heart.  That must be the dear, familiar lake.  And there stood Agatha waving to her, and at her side the lady Euryale under the spreading shade of a mighty palm.  Bright sunshine flooded them both, and yet it was the night; for there was the evening star beaming down upon her.

How could that be?

Yet, when she tried to understand it all, her head pained her so, and she turned so giddy, that she clutched the neck of the ass to save herself from falling.

When she raised herself again she saw a large boat, out of which several people came to meet them, the foremost of them a tall man in a long, white garment.  That was no dream, she was quite certain.  And yet-why did the lantern which one of them held aloft burn her face so much and not his?  Oh, how it burned!

Everything turned in a circle round her, and grew dark before her eyes.

But not for long; suddenly it became light as day, and she heard a deep and friendly voice calling her by name.  She answered without fear, “Here am I,” and saw before her a stranger in a long, white robe, of lofty yet gentle aspect, just as she had imagined the crucified Saviour of the Christians, and in her ear sounded the loving message with which he bids the weary and heavy-laden come to him that he may give them rest.

How gentle, how consoling, and how full of gracious promise were the words, and how gladly would she do his bidding!  “Here am I!” she cried again, and saw the arms of the white-robed man stretched out to receive her.  She staggered toward him, and felt a firm and manly hand clasp hers, and then rest in blessing on her throbbing brow.  All grew dark again before her, and she saw and heard no more.

Andreas had lifted her from the ass and supported her, while the two Christians thanked the soldier for his timely aid.

Having assured them that he had had no thought of helping them, but only of obeying his superior officers, he disappeared into the night, and the freedman lifted Melissa in his strong arms and carried her down to Zeno’s boat, which was waiting for them.

“Her mind wanders,” said the freedman, with a loving look at the precious burden in his arms.  “Her spirit is strong, but the shocks she has sustained this day have been too much for her.  “Thou wilt give me rest,” were her last words before losing consciousness.  Can she have been thinking of the promise of the Saviour?”

“If not,” answered the deep, musical voice of Zeno, “we will show her Him who called the little children to Him, and the weary and heavy-laden.  She belongs to them, and she will see that the Lord fulfills what He so lovingly promises.”