“How changed! Is this really you, Cassia dear?”
He seated himself by her side, and taking her hand in his, pressed it to his lips, and then, with a reverent air, gave her a kiss upon the forehead. She felt it not. Then he gazed into her eyes, hoping in vain that once again there might be reflected some image of himself.
Her manner was abstracted, and soon, with deep emotion, she began talking to herself,—
“O my Saulus! Where art thou? and what evil hath befallen thee? Behold thy Cassia weeps for thee and cannot be comforted. Shall I mourn thee as dead?”
Saulus listened in agony, but could not make his presence known. Every word cut him to the heart.
“I will not believe the tidings that have come to me. Some say that thou hast become a lunatic, and some that thou wast smitten by the sun and died, and others that thou hast joined the hated Nazarenes. Peradventure they are all lies! O Saulus! I am persuaded that thou art still faithful. I wot not but that thou art sick or in peril! O Saulus! why dost thou not return?”
Then she arose and paced to and fro in the little apartment, and Saulus beseechingly followed her. She spoke once more,—
“O my loved one! I feel almost that thou art here! Something like thy sweet breath came upon my cheek! Nay! my imagination doth deceive me!”
Then she sat down and buried her face in her hands, and burst into fresh weeping.
Saulus could endure the scene no longer. Thrilled and overwhelmed, he withdrew in like manner as he had entered. In the effort to calm himself he visited some of the other apartments.