Chapter Seventeen.
The Meeting.
As Jovinian and his attendant proceeded over the rugged paths, they naturally looked out somewhat anxiously to reaching their journey’s end in safety.
For several days they were compelled to put up at the huts of the mountaineers, and twice to seek shelter in caverns which it was evident had been used by other wayfarers. They were now travelling over some of the Cottian Alps. Here the mountains, broken by precipices, amid which they had to wind their way, rose on every side—the rocky bulwarks of those secluded valleys towards which they were directing their course. Here crag rose above crag, enormous masses of rock extending into the glens beneath—abysses of a depth which the eye could not penetrate. Innumerable springs of water gushed forth from the rocks, some uniting and forming torrents, which dashed foaming downwards into the hollows below. At length, surmounting a lofty ridge, they looked down upon a valley which presented scenery of the most beautiful description. So completely encircled was it by a rocky chain of mountains, that it appeared as if no rough winds could ever disturb its tranquillity. Sparkling fountains, issuing from the sides of the hills, made their way towards a bright stream which flowed at the bottom of the valley, irrigating the land in its course. The declivities were clothed with trees of every description, among which were numbers bearing fruit—the mulberry, the chestnut, the cherry, the walnut, and others. Cottages could be seen scattered about in every direction, showing that this favoured spot was thickly inhabited.
Here and there were dwellings of greater pretensions, which peeped forth from amid the groves. One edifice specially struck Jovinian: it had the form of a basilica such as those lately erected in Rome, and he had no doubt that it was used for Christian worship. No heathen temples were anywhere seen, although here and there a mass of ruins might have marked the spot where the shrine of an idol had stood. Jovinian’s heart beat more joyously than it had done for a long time. One of those residences, he was certain, must be the abode of Severus. Many months had passed since he last had heard from him, and a still longer period since he had been able to despatch a letter to his friend. Jovinian, therefore, was not expected; but his arrival would, he hoped, cause pleasure as well as surprise. The travellers, therefore, did not spend many moments in contemplating the enchanting scenery spread out before them, but, urging on their steeds, descended by a narrow pathway, leading from the heights they had gained through a deep gorge, which had to be passed before the valley could be entered. From the first peasant they met they inquired the way to the house of Severus.
“It is hard by the basilica which he has had erected for us,” was the answer; “and if Christians, as I know you to be, you will be welcomed as brethren, for so every one is received who comes in that character to his door.”
Already the shadows of the mountains were extending over the valley. They drew near a villa of elegant form, although not of costly materials; and Jovinian observed Severus walking to and fro on the terrace before the entrance. Throwing himself from his horse, Jovinian advanced towards his friend, who immediately recognised him, although he had grown into manhood since their separation.
Hurrying forward, Severus embraced him warmly. “We did not doubt your faithfulness, but we feared some accident had happened to you, since no letter has reached us for a year or more,” said Severus. “You will rejoice the hearts of my wife and child, who have been most anxious about you.”
Jovinian was soon in the presence of Eugenia and Julia—the latter blushing as she received his affectionate greeting.
“I have never had cause to regret coming here instead of remaining at Rome,” said Severus. “Although I hold that we are bound to bravely fight the good fight of faith against the world, the flesh, and the devil—being in the world, yet not of it—I should have proved of far less benefit to my fellow-creatures in Rome than, by God’s grace, I have been able to be here by faithfully preaching the pure Gospel, instructing the children, and advancing at the same time the temporal interests of the community. I have not confined myself to this valley alone, but have visited many others surrounding it. It is with gratitude to our Heavenly Father I am able to say that not a heathen temple remains within them, and that the people have mostly, if not altogether, abandoned all their idolatrous practices and superstitions; but still there is much work to be done, as there ever will be while the prince of this world has power over the children of men; and to that work, I trust, my beloved son, you will, from henceforth, devote yourself.” Such was Jovinian’s earnest desire.
It was with no small pleasure that he again met Eros, who greeted him with warm affection. The once ignorant slave had become the trusted overseer of Severus’ property, and at the same time an active promoter of the truth. There were two other persons of whom Jovinian wished to hear—Marcia and Coelia.
“They are both happily married, and are mothers. Marcia resides at the further end of this valley, and Coelia in the one beyond, where their husbands, greatly aided by them, minister to the spiritual wants of their neighbours,” was the answer.
Jovinian, who visited them, could scarcely recognise in the cheerful smiling matrons the once unhappy vestals.
Before long Jovinian became the husband of Julia; and he found in her an active helpmate in all his efforts for the good of the people among whom they had cast their lot.