dressed, stood with reverence beneath the lamp, which swung from the pole supporting the roof.

'Who art thou?' asked Constantine.

The visitor raised his eyes to the Emperor, and, bending low, seemed unable to speak; at last he stammered, in broken accents:

'My lord, once it pleased God through me to save your life; I come, in return, to ask one boon,-pardon, and permission to devote my life to your service, to fight in your cause tomorrow.'

'Good heavens,' said Constantine, 'can it be? Say, art thou a Caledonian ? methinks I recall your features.'

'I am Eachan, the son of Aëdh, now known by my baptismal name, Evanus.'

'And thy mother?'

" She was known to you as Lucia, to my people as Aithne; I am her most unworthy son.'

'Lucilianus,' said the Emperor, speaking with an agitated voice, 'leave us alone; there is no treachery here. Eachan-Evanus, tell me all; I know you now. Nay, do not weep; thou art Where hast thou been all these

a man now.

years? Why didst thou not claim my protec

tion? Tell me all. It was, then, as I thought, thou who didst fight with the cestus in the games at Durocina? I owed thee a life, and would have saved thee then.'

He raised the suppliant as he spoke, and, as Lucilianus left the room, Evanus, with a broken voice, began his sad tale.

He concealed nothing, but told of the plot formed by Pompeianus, and of its frustration. Constantine perfectly understood the circumstances, for the subsequent inquiries, after the death of Lutatius, had, as we have already seen, disclosed nearly the whole truth.

'But why hast thou not sought me before?' said Constantine; 'surely thou didst not doubt my forgiveness? '

The substance of the reply of Evanus was as follows:

When the little colony of Christians had been seized by the soldiers, as before narrated, they had been differently disposed of. Some had been sent at once to supply the amphitheatres, but others, who were young and strong, had been compelled to labour in the mines, under the most rigorous surveillance, such as to render life nearly insupportable and escape impossible, and Evanus, unrecognised as the young gladi

ator sought after by the Emperor, was amongst them. Yet so great had been the number of Christians, that their overseers, thinking that it was necessary to keep their captives in good spirits if they would make their mines lucrative, had even connived at Christian worship, feeling that they might thus reconcile their hapless slaves to their lot, and double the value of their labour. Thus the time had not been one of such fearful suffering as it would have been had it been unrelieved by the consolations of religion; for there were many clergy in the mines, and they had not failed to remind their fellow-slaves of the eternal weight of glory which would reward those who patiently endured the light affliction of the moment,light in comparison with the eternal glory.

But the rapid advance of the conquering legions of Constantine had driven the agents of Maxentius to seek shelter in Rome, and thus their slaves had gained freedom, after years of bondage.

It had been indeed a precious boon to Evanus, the moment he had prayed for had arrived at last he could obtain pardon for his intended crime; at last he could hear of his dear mother, whose sorrow had been the

R

bitterest thought when he languished in hopeless captivity.

He dreaded to ask whether she was still alive, but Constantine anticipated the question.

'Be of good cheer, thy mother yet lives.'

CHAPTER VI.

THE MILVIAN BRIDGE.

T

HE still hours of the night, that night of suspense, glided away, and

silence reigned in the imperial tent. The Emperor reposed upon his hard camp bed, and upon a similar pallet slept the pardoned Evanus, thus receiving the most touching proof of the confidence and forgiveness of Constantine.

Yes, he whose couch was that of a slave in the mines but a few days before, now shared the tent of the Emperor of the West.

Twice or thrice in the darkness of that night Constantine started to his feet and looked around him. Once Evanus caught his glance by the flickering light of the lamp which swung from the roof, and it was as that of one in a trance.