“Nothing—nothing,” she said. “That is all over! Good God, how long I must have been sitting here—I—I know I must go; yes, I know it.”
“And are you alone-no one with you?”
She shook her head sadly. The old man looked at her narrowly.
“Then I will take you safe home,” he said. “You see I am an old man and a priest. Where do you live, my child?”
“I? I...” stammered Agne, and a torrent of scalding tears fell down her cheeks. “My God! my God! where, where am I to go?”
“You have no home, no one belonging to you?” asked the old man. “Come, child, pluck up your courage and tell me truly what it is that troubles you; perhaps I may be able to help you.”
“You?” she said with bitter melancholy. “Are not you one of the Bishop’s priests?”
“I am a deacon, and Theophilus is the head of my church; but for that very reason...”
“No,” said Agne sharply, “I will deceive no one. My parents were Arians, and as my beliefs are the same as theirs the Bishop has driven me away as an outcast, finally and without pity.”
“Indeed,” said Eusebius. “Did the Bishop do that? Well, as the head of a large community of Christians he, of course, is bound to look at things in their widest aspect; small things, small people can be nothing to him. I, on the contrary, am myself but a small personage, and I care for small things. You know, child, that the Lord has said ‘that in his Father’s kingdom there are many mansions,’ and that in which Arius dwells is not mine; but it is in the Father’s kingdom nevertheless. It cannot be so much amiss after all that you should cling to the creed of your parents. What is your name?”