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he continued, looking at the statues of the heathen divinities, -“must I add hypocrisy to my other crimes? Dare I not openly to the world laugh at this mummery of bygone ages? Oh, fools! dolts! ye bards and dreaming sages, away with your god-peopled Olympus! as if the universe were upheld by creatures sharing your weaknesses, and yielding to your passions. There is but one Omnipotent, whose eye is on me now-whose curse sears my brain, and whose wrath has prepared for me a doom my shuddering nature cannot contemplate."

Motionless, with folded arms, Pilate remained in that spot for hours; his soul was busy with thought-thought which reverted to the past only to awaken anguish; and which dwelt on the present with weariness and despair. But the earth turns round; time drags on; and nights will pass away. Joyously in her robe of yellow light, ten thousand gems flashing in her golden hair, young Morning springs over the Latian hills; she laughs on Tibur's ancient walls; her glory streams over the classic land: and from Horace's Sabine farm to the blue-rolling Mediterranean, and thence to the gates of Imperial Rome, all Nature exults in that renewed existencethat resurrection from the death of night.

But fresher than the dew-strewn earth, and more buoyant than the spirit of awakened day, a young girl glides into that marble hall; her jetty ringlets stream over shoulders of living alabaster, and her silver-sandalled foot awakes no echo on the crystal pavement. Hebe is in search of her father, and she finds the lone meditator standing with down-bent eyes, in the same posture as we beheld him hours ago. Her gentle voice calls "Father!" and that sound, like music, melts into the heart of the melancholy man; a smile flits across the harsh lines of his haggard face, his stern eyes soften into inexpressible mildness, and he embraces his daughter in silence.

"Hebe! my innocent one! too bright thou art, too beautiful

for child of mine. A just God will never pour on thy fair head retribution for the crimes of others, or wither up thy existence with a curse. No, I will believe that thou art destined to a happy lot; and it is this conviction, my child, which tells me the fair plant must be removed from the baneful shadow of the tree of poison. Our paths must be separate-the father and daughter must part!'

"Part!" cried Hebe, with quivering lip; "never! you will not cruelly cast me from you?"

"Your mother is in the land of spirits, but my hour is not come. This dwelling, and the possessions I hold, you will henceforth regard as your own. The young tribune, Licinius, who has already solicited your hand, you will do well to receive as a husband; thus, in leaving my child, I shall have the consolation that she will be protected."

"But whither," cried Hebe, her eyes filling with tears,— "whither are you going?"

"I cannot inform you; I know not myself; I only know that I can endure no longer the gaze, the converse of my fellow-men, and that the sight of my wealth is no more a pleasure, but a torture. I lately placed into your hands the history of the world, so sublimely related by the Jewish Lawgiver, Moses; you there read that Cain, for slaughtering his brother Abel, was driven from the face of men; a darker deed than his weighs on my soul."

"No! no!" shrieked Hebe; " you are not a murderer!"

"I sacrificed a holier man, a greater than the brother of Cain; and yet, thou Omnipotent Searcher of hearts! still must I cry to Thee; I erred blindly; I knew not whom I condemned.' My daughter, ask no further question, for I cannot answer you. Tarry here-pass your days in peace - I go forth alone!"

"Not alone, father; if you renounce the pomps and gauds

of wealth, I renounce them also; I exist but for you: to be near you, to minister to your wants, to soothe your sorrows, is all I ask. I will accompany you—I will cling to your sideI will follow you, if it be over the world. Oh! forbid me notforbid me not!"

She sank on her knees; her lifted hands were clasped, and her streaming eyes raised beseechingly to his. Meek and devoted one! — child of purity, sprung from so dark a stock! that maiden is a type of self-sacrificing woman in all ages of the world; her love, whatever form it take-filial affection, passion, maternal fondness - gushes forth, and triumphs over the hard and worldly feelings that too often prompt the actions of man. Pilate, from his erect posture, stooped low and folded Hebe to his heart; in the devotion of that fair being, he felt half his curse removed he spread his hands over her, and seemed absorbed in prayer. His resolve was taken. If they were to be parted through eternity, let them not be parted in time; if honour, and the delights of luxury, charmed not her young heart, let her share his weary pilgrimage.

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And the father and daughter deserted that house of splendour; they passed away from the scene where the classic Anio, the cool groves that girt the Alban hill, and the flowers of the Latian plains, might well charm and fix there the step of man. Whither they wandered, none knew, though beyond the Alps, in Northern Gaul, and even in Britain, a vague report existed that men had seen the late governor of Judæa and his child.

Authors are not agreed as to the exact period when Pontius Pilate died; but some years had elapsed since his departure from his native land, when, in the vicinity of the town of Vienna (the modern Vienne), on the Rhone, precisely in the spot where the traveller now perceives a curiously sculptured

*

monument, an old man and a female seated themselves on a bank to rest; a fig-tree then grew there, and its broad leaves. protected them from the scorching rays of the sun. The features of the stranger were Roman, and cast in the noblest mould; but years and travel had wrinkled his brow, and his flowing beard was white; his form was bowed and emaciated, and his whole appearance indicated painful exhaustion. Yet Pilate's face had the same expression of intense melancholy which distinguished it in former days, and the cloud of remorse still seemed to overshadow his soul.

Hebe, from the light, buoyant, fairy-like girl, had passed to womanhood; her beauty was of statue-like perfection; but the majesty of her mien was tempered by an air of most primitive innocence, and a tenderness accompanied every action and look, betokening how gentle and sensitive was the spirit enshrined in that lovely form.

"Child, my wanderings are over," said Pilate; " my hour is come. Yonder sun with his beams of glory shines on me for the last time. I go to the place of shades. Thou hast been to me what never was daughter to her father before; he who in the Roman prison drank the stream of life from the breast of his own child,† owed less to her than I owe to thee, for thou hast been the life of my soul. In weary pilgrimage over the world, in privation and sorrow, thou hast been

* The most interesting, as well as the best preserved of the Roman remains at Vienne, is the structure called the Tomb of Pontius Pilate, and which is situated at a short distance from the south gate of the town. It has a singular appearance; an open square arcade stands on a solid basement of stone; above are some half-defaced mouldings, but no inscription is seen; a slender pyramid succeeds, and the height of the whole is about sixty feet. The ancient tradition attached to this monument is, that it covers the dust of Pontius Pilate, who, after having been for some years banished from Rome, died at Vienne. It has been said that he committed suicide; but this is by no means an established fact.

† Cimon and Xantippe.

my ministering angel, the bright star illumining, if aught may illumine, the midnight of my wretchedness."

Hebe bent over him, and strove to speak, but her gushing tears and sobs rendered her endeavour unavailing.

"Draw nearer, my child, for I can with difficulty see you now; I cannot reward you for the sacrifices you have made on my behalf, but I can tell you how much I love you. What has earth? what have all the dreams of power and glory to offer like that feeling of affection which knits my soul to yours?— But why this increase of agony now?-it is not because I depart it is not on account of the few years which must elapse before your bright soul will also quit this fair and smiling world—it is because you will ascend to a region I may not enter; you are not to share with me my eternity of gloom; your place will be among the happy angels, and never, never more shall I behold my child.”

Those features, usually so still, rarely betraying what passed within his soul, yielded now, beneath the anguish of that intolerable thought, to a momentary convulsion. Eternal separation from the gentle being he loved-there was the pang which pierced to his heart's inmost core.

"Father," said Hebe, "we shall not be separated; my prayer to the Omnipotent is, that, whether we be consigned to happiness or misery, our lots may be the same. I shall be near you; I shall soothe your sorrows, and all those sweet feelings of affection which warm our hearts now will exist beyond the grave, Hope then, father, hope!"

The old man turned his face towards the East — there lay the land whence light had arisen over the moral world, but where his own woe dated its existence. His lips moved; he whispered the name of Him whom he had condemned to die. In his look were repentance and remorse, and, mercy would add, gleams of hope. And now he turned to his child-his

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