"Thou hast a secret, my child?"
"Yes, mother."
"One of which thou art ashamed?"
"No, no. But it involves others."
The bricks were sprinkled with sand. Virgilia stopped and drew a fish
in the sand. She had for some time suspected that the Old One was a
Christian. If she were, she would recognize the symbol of Christ, the
"Icthus." If she were not, it would do no harm.
"And thou, too, art a little fish," murmured the Old One. "Thanks be to His holy name, when the Lord Christ was born, I was a Princess in the court of Herod, the King, who was sore afraid, because it was told him that a new King had come to reign over Israel. The angels sang at His birth and the kings from the East brought presents of frankincense and myrrh. I fell into the hands of the Romans, and here I am, a slave. But it was a plan of God. In Rome, I learned to know Christ."
"Virgilia! Virgilia!" Martius called. "It is time to go. Hurry! The chair is at the door."
"If the time comes when for conscience' sake thou must disclose that thou art a follower of Christ, do so. If not, keep silence and worship Him in thine heart lest evil come upon the thousands who love Him," said the Old One. Her eyes grew filmy and she stretched out her hands, tremblingly. "I see—I see—a shadow of death—approaching. But in the shadow—shines the face—of our—Risen Lord."
"Mother, Mother!" said Virgilia, alarmed.
"Was I speaking? What did I say? This work must be finished soon, for the marriage."