Toward the last of the persecution, the flashes of goodness and moral sanity increased in frequency. Seeming to come up from within, they staggered his understanding. He reproached himself for such occasional weaknesses. Each time as they passed off he braced himself anew, and hastened to his appointed work.
The last evening of the sojourn of Saulus in the Holy City was drawing to a close, and his preparations for an early departure the next morning were complete. The day had been sultry, and the family group at the inn were upon the house-top. The full moon, which silvered the broad expanse of towers and battlements, seemed to wear a sinister and ghastly aspect; and there was a redness in its sheen which gave Saulus a slight inward shudder. The shadows cast by surrounding objects were unwontedly sharp and black, and he felt preternaturally sensitive and expectant. The stirring events of his life in the Judean capital surged in a quick torrent through his mind, as if painted upon a swiftly revolving canvas. Love, hate, joy, despair, and ambition, sprinkled with the ashes of an inner and strange remorse, danced in chaotic confusion before him. Unwelcome and forbidding enemies seemed to be prodding him from within. Had he not done his duty well?
Cassia interrupted his revery, and together they sought a retired corner as they were wont. A long converse followed. Mutual vows were exchanged and renewed, and [pg 223]plans made for the consummation of their union upon the return of Saulus from his campaign in Damascus. After a long-continued rehearsal of mutual visions of present and future bliss, the moment for parting was at hand. Saulus was about to arise from his seat; but with eyes suddenly fixed upon vacancy, he gave a quick gasp and sank back.
“What is it, Saulus? thou tremblest and art pale! Art thou ill? O Saulus!”
Cassia threw her fair white arms around his neck to reassure him. After a brief conflict with the unknown, but with no effort to disengage himself from her soft embrace, he replied,—
“Nay, little one! I am well! ’Twas but a passing shudder! Some disquieting fancies seize me at unwonted and inconvenient seasons.”
“O Saulus! thou art so brave and good! But thou hast not seemed well of late! O my hero! What can it be?”
“I wot not. I am persuaded that I perform every duty to which I am called in no uncertain manner. But at times, peradventure I am under a spell. My heart stands still, and my limbs shiver. I see something near at hand which is not of earth, and the darkness seems full of terrible shapes. But I spurn and defy them! It is but a passing weakness, and soon will fade out. Between my little one and the punishment of heretics my mind will be so full that no more idle fancies can steal in. See! I am well now! I am strong! Peace be with thee! ’Twill be but for a short season, little one, when behold, thou art mine, and I am thine forever!”
A final embrace, and a whispering of eternal love, and they parted.
Saulus reached his chamber in a very uncertain mood. Despite the brave words just uttered, and with his comrade soundly sleeping near by, the very silence seemed oppressive and retributive. The atmosphere was charged with malignity, and every breath feverish and bitter. He tried desperately to fasten his thoughts upon Cassia, so as to shut out dire fancies. Thus for a few moments he would perch upon empyrean heights, only to be quickly cast down into horrible chasms.