XVIII. THE BRITON. INEAS had advanced thus far, that he could recognize the wondrous sweetness and beauty of Christianity. He was surrounded by those who offered to him its fairest manifestations. The venerable nurse, who had now regained all her former calm; and Helena, who no longer had any spiritual doubts or fears; and Marcus, whose whole life had been passed amidst the purest influences; all showed him how blessed a thing that religion was, which taught man to look up to his maker, not with fear or doubt, but with affection and confidence. He saw, also, that Julius was about to join them. Something had strengthened those tendencies toward Christianity which he had for a long time manifested; his attendance at their meetings was constant; his manner had changed; and some deep and solemn purpose lay in his soul. All these things which he saw every day, appealed to his feelings, and he was compelled to reason down those feelings, and guard against them, lest they should carry him away beyond his positive belief. Nothing had a stronger effect upon him than the words of Marcus. He used to listen in wonder to that slender, spiritual boy as he talked of God, his Father, and of heaven; things unknown to all boys whom Cineas had ever seen, but familiar to the mind of this singular being, who indeed, sometimes, when talking of these things, had such a radiant face, and such a glory around his brows, that he seemed him self to have known something of the world of which he loved to speak. He still maintained his friendship for the Briton with undiminished ardor, and still at almost any hour of the day these two strange friends might be seen together, in the portico, or in the garden, sometimes hand in hand, while at other times Galdus carried him on his broad shoulders. Marcus loved to talk to Galdus of that which occupied so much of his thought. He talked with him about everything, and of this not the least. The Briton attached but a very indistinct meaning to what he heard, but he always listened attentively, and admiringly. To such conversations Cineas was not unfrequently a listener, and it made him wonder still more to see a child talking about spiritual subjects to a barbarian. About such things philosophers might speculate, but here the Supreme Being had made his great presence felt in the heart of a child. About that Being the Briton had but dim and indistinct ideas. He always thought of him somehow in connection with Marcus, as though this angelic boy were of some heavenly nature, and therefore nearer to the Divine. For when Marcus tried to tell what the Great One was, the Briton could find nothing that realized the description in his mind so well as the boy himself. To such a conversation Cineas listened one day, when he stood on the portico, and the boy and his companion were seated on the grass before a broad pool, from the midst of which a wide jet of water burst upward into the air, and fell in clouds of spray back again into the basin. "Only see," said Marcus, "that golden glittering spray! and behind it there is a rainbow, and the water in the basin looks like silver. When we get to heaven I suppose all will be golden like this, only brighter." "It ought to be all golden and bright where you go,” said Galdus, admiringly, “and even then it will not be good enough for you. But that world is for you, not for me." "A god! I am only a child, but I hope to go there, for children are loved and welcomed there, and don't you wish to go there?" "I wish it, but I must go elsewhere." "Elsewhere!" "Yes, to live again as a warrior, or perhaps as an animal. Who knows? I don't." 66 "To live again! Yes, but not here, not as a warrior. No, you too shall be an angel, in that golden world, if you only wish to, and try to. Don't you wish to?" "I wish to be with you," said Galdus, lovingly, taking the thin white hand of Marcus in both of his, and looking at him with adoring fondness. "Don't you love God?" "You are my God." "O Galdus! Don't dare to say that. Only one is God. Don't you love him?” "I know nothing about him. I fear him." "Fear him!" "Yes, all that I ever heard about one God, or many gods, makes me fear one and all. They are all fierce and terrible. Let me keep away from them all, and be near you." "You do not know him then," said Marcus, in mournful accents. "Those who know him best, fear him most." "Who?" "The Druids. They are our priests. They are the only ones who tell us of him." "They don't know him," said Marcus, positively. 66 Why not? They are wise, venerable men, with gray hair, and long white beards. They live in groves, and sometimes see him, and he tells them what he wants." "And if he does, do you not know how good he is?" "Good! He is terrible." "Terrible! how?" "He thirsts for blood. Nothing but blood. I have seen my own brother laid on a stone, and the priest plunge his sharp knife in his throat.” Marcus shuddered, and looking earnestly at the Briton, asked, "Why, what do these murderers do that for?" "Because he wants blood. I have seen worse than this. I have seen a great cage filled with men, women, and children, and these priests kindled fires around it and burned them all up." Marcus moaned, and hid his face against the breast of the Briton. 66 "O horror!" he cried at last, "what do they mean by this? What do they think? Do they think they know What do they think he is? It is not God that they worship. It is the devil. He tells them lies. He is the one that wants blood." him? "Whoever it is," said Galdus, quietly, "that is what they do, and that is why I fear him, and think him terrible." "But this is all wrong," said Marcus, passionately. "They do not know him. He loves us. He hates blood. These dreadful things are dreadful to him." "Loves us?" repeated Galdus, slowly. "Yes." "I don't understand. and storms, and tempests. He sends thunder and lightning, hear the thunder I fear him most." "And I," said Marcus, "have no fear, for I know how good he is. Why should I fear the thunder? He gives us food and light, and the sweet flowers, and the bright sunshine. That shows what care he takes of us." "I didn't think of that," said Galdus, slowly. “And then, you know, he has been here. He wished to take us all to heaven, and so he came and lived among us - and died. Haven't I often told you this?" 66 "Yes ; but I don't understand it," said Galdus, with a bewildered air. "You are different from me. I learned to * fear him, and now, when you tell me such things as these, I think they were done for you and not for me." "For all," said Marcus, in a sweet, low voice. about all the time among poor people, and sick people, and little children, and spoke kind words, and when he saw any one suffering, he at once went there and comforted him.” "He went "As you did to me," said Galdus, with glistening eyes and tremulous voice, "in that place when I lay struck down by a coward, and all men left me to myself, where they had thrown me, as if I were a dog; and you came with your fair face, and I looked up and thought I saw a vision. For you stood with tears in your eyes; and then I first heard your dear sweet voice, and you spoke pityingly, as a mother might speak, and I was astonished; but I worshipped you in my heart. When you talk to me of your God, and tell me how he came to the poor and the suffering, then I think of you as you came there, and I see nothing but you. I know not your God. I know mine. You are my God, and I worship you." And the rude, strong Briton pressed Marcus in his arms strongly, yet tenderly; and the boy felt the beating of the stout heart in that giant frame, which now was shaken with emotion, and he knew how strong a hold he had on the affection of that fierce and rugged nature. "You love me, dear Galdus, and I know it well, but don't say that I am your God. I love you, but there is One that loves you better." "No, no, that is impossible. I know how you love me. And you have made me forget my country." "He loves you," said Marcus, with childish persistency. "He will give you a better country." "I cannot think of Him. You are the only one that I |