“But thou art my only child.”
“And she offered them all to God.”
“I am a widow, and alone.”
“And such was she.”
Then said the brown-habited man whom the lady had called Baudillas:
“Quincta, remember that she is taken from an evil world, in which are snares, and that God may have chosen to deliver her by this means from some great peril to her soul, against which thou wouldst have been powerless to protect her.”
“I cannot bear it,” gasped the heart-broken woman. “I have lived only for her. She is my all.”
Then Perpetua gently unclasped the arms of her mother, who was lapsing into unconsciousness, kissed her, and said:
“The God of all strength and comfort be to thee a strong tower of defence.” And hastily returned to the basin.
The young man who before had noticed Perpetua, turned with quivering lip to his companion, and said: