“What, have you really been thinking of this, Jubala?”
“For a long time, lady, in my sorrows and remorse. For I have seen how happy Christians are, even those who have been as wicked as myself. And because I hinted this to my husband this morning, he has beaten me, and threatened to take my life. But, thank God, I have been making myself acquainted with Christian doctrines, through the teaching of a friend.”
“How long has this bad treatment gone on, Jubala?” asked Orontius, who had heard of it from his uncle.
“Ever,” she replied, “since soon after marriage, I told him of an offer made to me previously, by a dark foreigner, named Eurotas. Oh! he was indeed a wicked man, a man of black passions and remorseless villany. Connected with him, is my most racking recollection.”
“How was that?” asked Orontius, with eager curiosity.
“Why, when he was leaving Rome, he asked me to prepare for him two narcotic potions; one for any enemy, he said, should he be taken prisoner. This was to be certainly fatal; another had to suspend consciousness for a few hours only, should he require it for himself.
“When he came for them, I was just going to explain to him, that, contrary to appearances, the small phial contained a fatally concentrated poison, and the large one a more diluted and weaker dose. But my husband came in at the moment, and in a fit of jealousy thrust me from the room. I fear some mistake may have been committed, and that unintentional death may have ensued.”
Fabiola and Orontius looked at one another in silence, wondering at the just dispensations of Providence; when they were aroused by a shriek from the woman. They were horrified at seeing an arrow quivering in her bosom. As Fabiola supported her, Orontius, looking behind him, caught a glimpse of a black face grinning hideously through the fence. In the next moment a Numidian was seen flying away on his horse, with his bow bent, Parthian-wise over his shoulder, ready for any pursuer. The arrow had passed, unobserved, between Orontius and the lady.
“Jubala,” asked Fabiola, “dost thou wish to die a Christian?”
“Most earnestly,” she replied.