“I HAVE some news, May, for you and Winnie, "said Mr. Graham one morning at breakfast, laying down a letter he had been reading, "and I think you will consider it very good news.”
“Oh, what is it, papa?" exclaimed both children, "Mamma has asked your cousin Fred to come and stay a few days with us, and your uncle writes to say he will be very pleased for him to come.”
“Hurrah!" shouted Winnie, “that is capital.”
“Oh, papa, that will be nice," exclaimed May. "Thank you, mamma, so much for asking him.”
“You must remember, my dear," said her mother, “that he is much older than you, and may consider Winnie and you rather young for play-fellows.”
“When is he coming, papa?" asked Winnie.
“Next Saturday, your uncle suggests. If you are both very good children, I will take you over to the station to meet him.”
For the next few days the children talked of little else but Cousin Fred, and their excitement knew no bounds when at last Saturday came. Miss Chester did not see much of her pupils during the remainder of the day, after their cousin's arrival. For Fred, as they said, had to be taken everywhere, and shewn everything, and very good-natured the big school boy was to his little cousins.
“Will you come up to the schoolroom, Fred, and see Miss Chester?" asked Winnie, as bed time approached, "she is very kind.”
“I don't know," said Fred, "governesses are generally so stiff.”
“Oh! Miss Chester isn't. She is ever so nice," said May, "do come.”
“All right, I'll come. I needn't stay long, and she must be dull all alone.”
So Fred good-humouredly allowed himself to be led into the schoolroom. He soon made up his mind that Miss Chester was not a bad sort, and he would not mind paying a visit to the schoolroom pretty often.
“Fred," said Winnie, presently, "shall you come to Miss Chester's Bible-class to-morrow?”
“Oh! I don't know it may be well enough for little girls like you, but a fellow gets too much of that sort of thing at school. Half an hour is a long time, I can tell you, to listen to the old doctor prosing.”
“Miss Chester does not prose," said May. "I wish you would come, Fred. Do ask him, Miss Chester.”
“Will you, my boy," said Miss Chester, laying her hand on his shoulder. "It would give me great pleasure to have you join us to-morrow.”
Fred hesitated, he did not like the idea of giving up Sunday afternoon to a long, dull Bible lesson. But another thought struck him, if he was obliged to have a dull time to please Miss Chester: perhaps she would make up for it by telling them a good story; for he remembered that the children said she was good at stories.
“If I make a martyr of myself tomorrow afternoon, will you tell me a real good story to-night, Miss Chester?" he asked.
“Oh, do, do!" cried May and Winnie. "I am afraid, Fred, you will be difficult to please.”
“Do you know anything about Indians or lion hunts? I like something of that sort best.”
“How would ‘The Lions of Wady Arabah' do?" asked Miss Chester.
“The very thing!" exclaimed Fred.
“It is a long time since I read it, so I have forgotten a great deal. To begin with, I do not remember in what city the family lived of whom I am going to tell you; but all I know is, it was somewhere in Arabia. The persecution from which they suffered was ordered by one of the Roman Emperors; but by which one I have quite forgotten. The family, consisting of father, mother, three boys, and a little girl of seven, on refusing to sacrifice to the Roman gods, were condemned to be taken into the middle of the desert called Wady Arabah, and then left to become a prey to the lions, which were to be taken there for the purpose of killing them.
“The eldest girl, Lucia, was not at home when her parents, brothers, and little sister were seized; she had called in to see an old nurse, to whom she was greatly attached. Just as she was thinking of returning home, one of her father's servants rushed into the cottage to warn her of what had happened.
“‘Nurse, I must go to them,' she exclaimed, and it was with great difficulty that the old woman was able to persuade her to stay quietly with her, instead of giving herself up to the authorities. ‘Then find me a way of joining them in the desert; if you do not, nurse, I shall certainly set out by myself.'
“‘Give me time to think, my young lady. Perhaps something will turn up.'
“That evening the nephew of the old woman called, and mentioned that he had to set out early the next morning with a caravan of lions to let loose on the Christians in the desert, and he badly wanted, he said, a boy to feed them; but it was such short notice, he was afraid he would not hear of one. The old woman at once thought that Lucia might go disguised as a boy. So promising to let her nephew know if she heard of one, she bade him good-night; and calling Lucia, made known the plan to her.
“Of course I will go, nurse,' said Lucia, quietly, you must help me to get ready.'
“There was not much to be done, for the boys and girls there were dressed very much alike up to a certain age. When the few alterations were made, Lucia bade good-bye to her old nurse, and with a beating heart went to offer herself as servant boy to the rough caravan men. They did not half like taking such a weak, puny boy, as they called her, but no other was to be had; so to Lucia's great joy, she was accepted. She thought nothing of the hardships she must go through in her great desire to join her dear ones.
“But poor Lucia little knew the nature of the duties she was undertaking. When ordered to carry to the lions their midday meal, the poor child shrank from having to carry the great mass of horseflesh, the sight and smell of which made her feel faint; but it had to be done. If the men found her of no use to them, they would leave her behind, and then all her hopes of joining her family would be gone. She had planned to travel three days with them, and then make her escape at night. Everything was favorable to her design; she managed to slip away from the caravan unperceived, and before she was missed she was miles away. Towards noon, on the second day, she felt as if she could go no further.
“She had just come to a rocky place where there were some tempting little pieces of shade, and was just on the point of casting herself down for a rest in the welcome shade, when two ruffian-looking men rushed out from behind the rocks. Poor Lucia tried to run, but she felt quite powerless to move her aching limbs. Just at that moment, two men mounted on camels appeared in sight. Lucia took a few steps towards them, and then sank down with the cry, 'Save me.' No sooner had the ruffians caught sight of the new corners than they fled, casting frightened glances behind them as if they feared pursuit.
“The foremost rider was in a minute by Lucia's side.
“'Quick, Gaius, the water!' he cried, 'tis a girl! However comes she alone in the desert?'
“The poor girl had fainted, and it was some time before the young doctor, for such he was, could restore her to consciousness When at last she recovered, she learned that he was also a Christian, but was free from persecution, as he had successfully treated a serious illness from which the Emperor's daughter was suffering. In fact he had saved her life. So, out of gratitude, the Emperor had given him a document, signed by himself, promising him safety from persecution.
“On hearing Lucia's story, Marcus, for such was his name, offered to help her in her search for the banished ones. And Lucia, anxious not to lose time, begged him to start at once.
“I must now tell you what had befallen the poor exiles. They had been taken by a caravan into the middle of the desert, and there left, with only enough bread to last them a couple of days. The father's first thought was to look out for a suitable place, where they could spend the night. This he soon found in a half-ruined cottage, belonging once, no doubt, to a hermit. It was soon made into a very comfortable shelter. The door they carefully built up with stones to a good height; then the father lifted in the boys who had been helping him; and climbed over himself, after he had thrown in a sufficient number of stones to finish blocking up the doorway from the inside.
“The whole of the next day they walked in the direction in which they believed some villages lay. Towards evening they reached a little wood, and decided to spend the night among the branches of a tree. The little ones were tied securely to the branches, and had dropped off to sleep, when a terrible roar was heard. On looking down they perceived what they had been dreading all along. Close beside the tree which they had climbed, stood a lion, glaring up at them, and at a little distance the lioness.
“The poor father's heart sank within him, for well he knew there was no hope of the lions leaving them; they would watch the tree by turns, and nothing seemed before them but starvation.
“Morning came, but there were the lions still; all the bread had gone, and the poor children were crying from hunger and fear. But deliverance was near. In their terror about the lions, the frightened captives had scarcely noticed what a fearful storm was gathering; but at last it burst upon them; the thunder rolled above their heads, and the forked lightning made the children hide their faces for fear. Then came a rushing, whizzing sound, and a heavy thud—a thunderbolt had fallen at the distance of only a few feet from them, and underneath it, crushed and dead, lay the lion.
“God has preserved us, my children,' exclaimed the father; let us thank Him for His great goodness in saving us from the lions. As soon as the storm is over, we may set out on our march again.'
“The lioness had been frightened away, but they had not seen the last of her.
“At noon they stopped at a little stream to rest and refresh themselves under the shade of some trees which stood near. On descending from the tree in the morning they had cut some slices of lion flesh, which their long fast made very acceptable to them, badly cooked as it was in the embers of a wood fire. After finishing their meal, the children were amusing themselves by wandering up and down the brook, the father had just called to little Vera not to get too far off, and she had answered, I will come back in one minute, father,' when a stealthy tread was heard among the trees, a crackling of dead leaves, and then a spring, a sharp cry, and little Vera was carried off by the lioness. Lucia was never to see her little sister again. When a few hours after she joined her parents and brothers, it was a sorrowful meeting, and bitterly she wept for the sad fate of her little sister.
“Before dark they reached a small village, where they were warmly welcomed by the Christians of the place. They thought here they might remain quite safely, as it was a retired, obscure place. But their troubles were not over yet. That same evening, the tramp of armed men was heard approaching the house where they were, and they were called upon to surrender in the name of the Emperor.
“All but Marcus, he was free to go where he would; but he determined not to leave his new friends in their time of trouble. Asking Lucia for a few minutes' conversation, he told her that he could offer her safety if she, young as she was, would consent to become his wife, for the Emperor, not knowing he was unmarried, had included his wife in the order from freedom of persecution. Lucia told him that her answer might have been different under different circumstances, but she did not wish safety for herself, while her father, mother, and brothers were going to glorify God among the lions.
“Once more that evening was heard the tramp of soldiers, then a flourish of trumpets, and 'Long live the Emperor,' and all was still again.
“Not till morning did the prisoners know what this meant for them. They were free, the Emperor was dead, and his successor wished the persecution of the Christians to cease. The story ended, I think, by Marcus asking Lucia the same question again, and this time she gave a different answer, and not long after they were married.”
As Miss Chester paused, there was quite a chorus of thanks.
“Were you not frightened, May, at the part where the lion came under the tree?" asked Winnie.
“Yes, rather," said May. "I wish the lioness had not got the little girl.”
“When did you read the story, Miss Chester?" asked Fred.
“Oh, many years ago, when I was a little girl. And now, my boy, remember we shall expect to see you to-morrow afternoon.”
“Yes," said Fred, with a resigned air, "I suppose I must come, but you won't make it too long, will you?”
“No, I promise you that," said Miss Chester, "I should be sorry to weary you.”