“I think,” said poor Anna, in a low but firm voice, “I think I can bear my own pain better than witnessing that of another.”
“Thou hast no lurking fear, then, that when the trial comes thou wilt deny thy Lord?”
“Nay,” Anna said, “I, who have been so weak-hearted, feel that He gives me strength; and, Agatha, I have had a wondrous and beautiful dream. I dreamed I saw the golden city, and the great gates, through which only the pure of heart can pass. There was a soft light all round, like the light in the atrium when all the silver lamps were kindled, and there was the murmur of many waters. Then, as I stood at the gates, afraid to enter, I heard a voice say, ‘Come up hither.’
“I answered, ‘I dare not; I am only a slave, a poor slave;’ and the voice said—
“‘I have bought thee with a price, and thou art Mine.’ And then, Agatha, I saw my own beautiful little mistress, Hyacintha. I wondered to see her there, standing at the gate. I thought it must be the temple of Vesta, and not the Holy City. My mistress was still a child, yet not a child. She wore a long white robe, and her figure was tall and stately. Her hair was bound with a gold fillet, which made a shining circle around her head. She held out her arms to me, and said—
“‘Anna! Anna!’ Then I wondered why she called me Anna, for I had ever been Ebba to her—Ebba, the British slave-girl. Then she said—
“‘I have come to meet thee at the gate. I have come to bid thee welcome; the Lord has sent me for thee.’
“I marvelled much how that could be, for I knew my little mistress was to be a priestess of the goddess Vesta, and that she must worship her, and not the Lord Jesus.
“But then the voice of one I could not see, seemed to answer my thoughts, and said—
“‘I have bought you both with a price, you are Mine; enter ye into the Heavenly City, and go out no more.’ Then my little mistress, fair Hyacintha, took my hand, and we went up the golden street together, and there was again the sound of many waters, and of sweet music, and countless glad voices; and then I opened my eyes, and all was dark—so dark—but I felt thy arm pressing me to thy heart, Agatha, and was comforted.”