For a moment there was a pause, but almost before it could be realized Mercia’s clear, sweet voice rang out the first words of their beloved hymn:
“Shepherd of souls that stumble by the way,
Pilot of vessels storm-tossed in the night,
Healer of wounds, for help to Thee we pray.”
Singing these words with uplifted eyes and undaunted hearts, those noble martyrs went calmly and resignedly through the dark Valley of the Shadow of Death to the everlasting peace that awaited them beyond.
Mercia, a beautiful girl, was left alone in the dungeon. It was generally understood that Marcus Superbus, the handsome, wealthy young Prefect of Rome, was madly in love with this Christian girl, and the adventuress who hoped to entrap Marcus prevailed upon Nero to make Mercia’s punishment unique and horrible.
She sank upon her knees with her face pressed against the iron bars. Presently the door leading to the corridor was unbarred. Two officers entered, ushering in Marcus, who started on finding Mercia alone. Dismissing the guards, he closed the door and gazed with infinite tenderness upon the white figure at his feet—Mercia.
For a time Marcus could not speak; his heart felt like bursting with grief for this beautiful girl. Here in this loathsome dungeon she could still preserve her courage and could still pray for forgiveness for her persecutors.
“Mercia! Mercia!”
“What would you with me?”