prayed.

"Be with me, be with me, O Lord!" besought Timokles.

Again within the tent he conjectured there might be a faint stir.

"My enemy cometh!" he thought.

But there was silence. Timokles waited, yet there came no sound.

Remembrances of what he had heard concerning former martyrs crowded
upon him. He thought of Pothinus, the ninety-years-old bishop of
Lyons, who, in answer to the legate's question, "Who is the God of
the Christians?" boldly answered, "If thou art worthy, thou shalt
know," and was tortured so severely that he died in prison. Timokles
remembered hearing of Ponticus, the boy who, in the same
persecution, bore all the tortures unflinchingly, though he was but
fifteen years old. And Blandina, the maiden, who, tortured,
bleeding, mangled, still persisted in her declaration, "I am a
Christian! Among us no wickedness is committed," came to Timokles'
mind. His thoughts turned to the martyr Christians of four years ago
at Carthage, and he remembered the words of one of those Christians:
"We will die joyfully for Christ our Lord."

Timokles prayed long and fervently. His heart went back to his
beloved Alexandrian home. Heaven would be sweet, but would his dear
ones ever know the only way there? Would they ever accept Jesus
Christ as their Savior?

"O Lord, help Heraklas to know thee!" prayed Timokles with dropping