'And what then,' asked Julia, as Probus paused and fell back into himself, 'is it that fills and agitates the mind? for at such a moment it can scarcely possess itself in perfect peace.'
'It is this,' replied Probus. 'Am I worthy? Have I wrought well my appointed task? Have I kept the faith? And is God my friend and Jesus my Saviour? These are the thoughts that engross and fill the mind. It is busy with the past—and with itself. It has no thoughts to spare upon suffering and death—it has no doubts or fears to remove concerning immortality. The future life, to me, stands out in the same certainty as the present. Death is but the moment which connects the two. You say well, that at such an hour as this the mind can scarce possess itself in perfect peace. Yet is it agitated by nothing that resembles fear. It is the agitation that must necessarily have place in the mind of one to whom a great trust has been committed for a long series of years, at that moment when he comes to surrender it up to him from whom it was received. I have lived many years. Ten thousand opportunities of doing good to myself and others have been set before me. The world has been a wide field of action and labor, where I have been required to sow and till against the future harvest. Must I not experience solicitude about the acts and the thoughts of so long a career? I may often have erred; I must often have stood idly by the wayside; I must many times have been neglectful, and forgetful, and wilful; I must often have sinned; and it is not all the expected glory of another life, nor all the honor of dying in the cause of Christ, nor all the triumph of a martyr's fate, that can or ought to stifle and overlay such thoughts. Still I am happy. Happy, not because I am in my own view worthy or complete, but because through Jesus Christ I am taught, in God, to see a Father. I know that in him I shall find both a just and a merciful judge; and in him who was tempted even as we are, who was of our nature and exposed to our trials, shall I find an advocate and intercessor such as the soul needs. So that, if anxious as he who is human and fallible must ever be, I am nevertheless happy and contented. My voyage is ended; the ocean of life is crossed, and I stand by the shore with joyful expectations of the word that shall bid me land and enter into the haven of my rest.'
As Probus ended these words, a low and deep murmur or distant rumbling as of thunder caught our ears, which, as we listened, suddenly increased to a terrific roar of lions, as it were directly under our feet. We instinctively sprang from where we sat, but were quieted at once by Probus:
'There is no danger,' said he; 'they are not within our apartment, nor very near us. They are a company of Rome's executioners, kept in subterranean dungeons, and fed with prisoners whom her mercy consigns to them. Sounds more horrid yet have met my ears, and may yours. Yet I hope not.'
But while he yet spoke, the distant shrieks of those who were thrust toward the den, into which from a high ledge they were to be plunged headlong, were borne to us, accompanied by the oaths and lashes of such as drove them, but which were immediately drowned by the louder roaring of the imprisoned beasts as they fell upon and fought for their prey. We sat mute and trembling with horror, till those sounds at length ceased to reverberate through the aisles and arches of the building.
'O Rome!' cried Probus, when they had died away, 'how art thou drunk with blood! Crazed by ambition, drunk with blood, drowned in sin, hardened as a millstone against all who come to thee for good, how shalt thou be redeemed? where is the power to save thee?'
'It is in thee!' said Julia. 'It is thy blood, Probus, and that of these multitudes who suffer with thee, that shall have power to redeem Rome and the world. The blood of Jesus, first shed, startled the world in its slumbers of sin and death. Thine is needed now to sound another alarm, and rouse it yet once more. And even again and again may the same sacrifice be to be offered up.'
'True, lady,' said Probus; 'it is so. And it is of that I should think. Those for whom I die should fill my thoughts, rather than any concern for my own happiness. If I might but be the instrument, by my death, of opening the eyes of this great people to their errors and their guilt, I should meet death with gratitude and joy.'
With this and such like conversation, Fausta, did we fill up a long interview with Probus. As we rose from our seats to take leave of him, not doubting that we then saw him and spoke to him for the last time, he yielded to the force of nature and wept. But this was but for a moment. Quickly restored to himself—if indeed when shedding those tears he were not more truly himself—he bade us farewell, saying with firmness and cheerfulness as he did so,
'Notwithstanding, Piso, the darkness of this hour and of all the outward prospect, it is bright within. Farewell!—to meet as I trust in Heaven!'