‘Yes, but not here.... We must escape—Nay, hear me, one moment! dearest sister, hear me! Are you so happy here that you can conceive of no better place? And—and, oh, God! that it may not be true after all!—but is there not a hell hereafter?’
Pelagia covered her face with her hands—‘The old monk warned me of it!’
‘Oh, take his warning....’ And Philammon was bursting forth with some such words about the lake of fire and brimstone as he had been accustomed to hear from Pambo and Arsenius, when Pelagia interrupted him— ‘Oh, Miriam! Is it true? Is it possible? What will become of me?’ almost shrieked the poor child.
‘What if it were true?—Let him tell you how he will save you from it,’ answered Miriam quietly.
‘Will not the Gospel save her from it—unbelieving Jew? Do not contradict me! I can save her.’
‘If she does what?’
‘Can she not repent? Can she not mortify these base affections? Can she not be forgiven? Oh, my Pelagia! forgive me for having dreamed one moment that I could make you a philosopher, when you may be a saint of God, a—’
He stopped short suddenly, as the thought about baptism flashed across him, and in a faltering voice asked, ‘Are you baptized?’
‘Baptized?’ asked she, hardly understanding the term.
‘Yes—by the bishop—in the church.’