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There was more of heart, less of effort, less of mechanical habit, in Agellius’s prayers that night, than there had been for a long while before. He got up, struck a light, and communicated it to his small earthen lamp.
His own face became almost satirical as Agellius’s became grave; however, he was too companionable and good-natured to force another to be happy in his own way; he imputed to the extravagance of his friend’s religion what in any but a Christian he would have called moroseness and misanthropy; and he bade his sister give over representations which, instead of enlivening the passing hour, did but inflict pain.
There were no candles upon the altar itself, but wax lights fixed into silver stands were placed at intervals along the edge of the presbytery or elevation. The mass was in behalf of the confessors for the faith then in prison in Carthage; and the sacred ministers, some half-hour after Agellius’s entrance, made their appearance.
Agellius’s mood was too excited, too tragic to last. The sight of Callista in that dreadful prison, perhaps in chains, waiting, in order to be free, for ability to say the words, “I am not a Christian;” and that ability waiting for the same words from himself, would bring the affair to a very speedy issue. As if he could love a fancy better than he loved Callista!
Moreover, about the main point there was no mystery, and could be no mistake, that he was in the hands of a Christian ecclesiastic. The stranger occupied himself for a time with a book of prayers which he carried about him, and then again with the duties of a sick-bed. He sprinkled vinegar over Agellius’s face and about the room, and supplied him with the refreshment of cooling fruit.
Would you live ‘without God in this world’?” Tears came into Agellius’s eyes, and his throat became oppressed. At last he said, distinctly and tenderly, “No.” After a while the priest said, “I suppose what you fear is the fire of judgment, and the prison; not lest you should fall away and be lost.”
The person spoken to applied his mouth to Agellius’s ear, and uttered lowly several sacred names. Agellius would have started up had he been strong enough; he could but sink down upon his rushes in agitation. “Be content to know no more at present,” said the stranger, “praise God, as I do. You know enough for your present strength. It is your act of obedience for the day.”
On Agellius’s entering the room, Aristo was pacing to and fro in some discomposure; however, he ran up to his friend, embraced him, and, looking at him with significance, congratulated him on his good looks. “There is more fire in your eye,” he said, “dear Agellius, and more eloquence in the turn of your lip, than I have ever yet seen. A new spirit is in you.
It was Agellius’s place, as the younger, to make advances, if he could, to an adjustment of the misunderstanding; and he wished to find some middle way. And, also, it is evident he had another inducement besides his tenderness to Jucundus to urge him to do so. In truth, Callista exerted a tremendous sway over him.
He considered Callista’s hold on him was the most promising quarter of the horizon; so he came to a resolution to do as little as he could personally, but to hold Agellius’s head, as far as he could, steadily in the direction of that lady, and to see what came of it.
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