Two hours later, in a humble and densely peopled quarter of the city, such as in our own day we should call a slum, where folk were employed making those articles which ministered to the comfort or the luxury of the more fortunate, a certain master-carpenter known as Septimus was seated at his mid-day meal in a little chamber above his workshop. His hands were rough with toil, and the dust of his trade was upon his garments and even powdered over his long gray beard, so that at first sight it would not have been easy to recognise in him that Cyril who was a bishop among the Christians. Yet it was he, one of the foremost of the Faith in Rome.
A woman entered the room and spoke with him in a low voice.
“The dame Julia, the wife of Gallus, and two others with her?” he said. “Well, we need fear none whom she brings; lead them hither.”
Presently the door opened and Julia appeared, followed by two veiled figures. He raised his hands to bless her, then checked himself.
“Daughter, who are these?” he said.
“Declare yourselves,” said Julia, and at her bidding Miriam and Nehushta unveiled.
At the sight of Miriam’s face the bishop started, then turned to study that of her companion.
“Who vouches for this woman?” he asked.
“I vouch for myself,” answered Nehushta, “seeing that I am a Christian who received baptism a generation since at the hands of the holy John, and who stood to pay the price of faith in the arena at Cæsarea.”
“Is this so?” asked the bishop of Miriam.