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diff --git a/old/66876-0.txt b/old/66876-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 3146aad..0000000 --- a/old/66876-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7678 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of In Naaman's House, by Marian MacLean -Finney - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: In Naaman's House - -Author: Marian MacLean Finney - -Release Date: December 3, 2021 [eBook #66876] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Mary Glenn Krause, David E. Brown, and the Online - Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This - book was produced from images made available by the - HathiTrust Digital Library.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN NAAMAN'S HOUSE *** - - - - - - IN NAAMAN’S - HOUSE - - BY - MARIAN MACLEAN FINNEY - - [Illustration] - - THE ABINGDON PRESS - - NEW YORK CINCINNATI - - - - - Copyright, 1922, by - MARIAN MACLEAN FINNEY - - - Printed in the United States of America - - - - - TO - MY FRIENDS - - “Other blessings may be taken away, but if we have acquired a good - friend, we have a blessing which improves in value when all others - fail.” - - - - -CONTENTS - - - CHAPTER PAGE - I. NEW ACQUAINTANCES 7 - II. SURPRISES 18 - III. VISITORS 29 - IV. CAPTIVES 40 - V. JOURNEYING 51 - VI. DAMASCUS 63 - VII. WAYFARERS 74 - VIII. DOUBTS 85 - IX. INTRODUCTIONS 95 - X. HANNATHON 107 - XI. CONFESSION 117 - XII. UNDERSTANDING 129 - XIII. CHANGES 139 - XIV. DECISION 151 - XV. CONSTERNATION 162 - XVI. HOPE 173 - XVII. REWARDS 185 - XVIII. PLANS 196 - XIX. HOME 206 - XX. DEVOTION 218 - XXI. TIDINGS 228 - XXII. MEETINGS 239 - XXIII. ISRAEL 249 - XXIV. WAITING 261 - XXV. ANTICIPATION 274 - XXVI. CERTAINTY 285 - - - - -CHAPTER I - -NEW ACQUAINTANCES - - -“I like not the maiden, Caleb. No good will come of taking in this -daughter of strange people.” - -“Thy words belie thy kind heart, Sarah. Thou wert willing to take -under our care the child of my kinsman, even though estranged from his -father’s house by his marriage. I fear, however,” and the man’s voice -was troubled, “that we shall not be able to make her happy.” - -“Make her happy!” broke in the woman’s indignant tones. “I fear that -she will not be able to make herself useful. She hath not so far.” -Then, more gently, “Yet is she welcome to all we can do for her now -that she hath no kin save us, but I am fearful because her mother was -of the natives of Canaan so that she hath not been instructed in the -way of Jehovah. If she should have a wrong influence over our little -Miriam!” - -The woman in the doorway glanced over her shoulder at the scene within -the dwelling where an animated conversation was in progress. - -“Awake, Judith. I myself have awaked early. See, the door hath been -opened and the fresh morning breezes blow sweet after the night-time -when no air cometh in at all. Father hath almost finished leading -out the animals. Did they bother thee last night with their stamping? -Peradventure some wild animal was prowling about outside. Is it not a -fine arrangement to have the mangers built between their part of the -house and ours? And is it not comforting to know that at night and on -stormy days they are safe under the same roof with us? Art thou still -asleep?” - -An older maiden sprang to her feet. “Who could sleep through thy -chatter, Miriam? Thou makest more noise than the oxen and the asses -and the cow and the calf all put together.” But a smile tempered the -severity of the speech. - -The younger and smaller maid laughed delightedly and stooping to the -floor began to fold the thickly padded rug or quilt on which she had -slept, depositing it in a nook in the wall apparently built for the -purpose and keeping up a steady stream of talk designed to be informing -to the new arrival. - -“If our olive trees have a good crop this year, we are going to have -curtains to hide the beds. Last year father built this wooden floor -to raise our living room above the ground where the animals stay. It -is cleaner and dryer now and ants and mice do not trouble us so much. -Thinkest thou not we have a splendid home?” - -Judith’s somewhat cool response caused Miriam to look at her in hurt -surprise. The mother flashed a reassuring smile from her seat in the -doorway, though never ceasing for a moment her skillful manipulation -of a large sieve. It was tossed and shaken and every few minutes tilted -sideways to allow a tiny shower of straws and dust to fall upon the -ground. While Miriam took up the beds Judith was required to assist -her aunt in grinding the newly sieved grain. With a steady, monotonous -motion they worked the wooden handle of the mill back and forth, back -and forth, never hastening but never stopping until at last the sound -of the grinding became lower and lower and finally ceased, the whole -grains of wheat having been crushed into a coarse powder between the -upper and lower stones of the mill. - -It did not take long for this to be made up into dough, patted into -small, flat cakes, and baked quickly in the out-of-doors oven made of -heated stones. By ten o’clock, as was usual in the Land of Israel, the -morning repast was ready: hot bread, fresh milk, and to-day there were -young onions dipped in salt. Had this been winter instead of spring, -there might have been a handful of raisins or a few olives or the bread -might possibly have been dipped in grape-syrup. This meal was always -relished, however, for no other would be cooked until sunset. By the -time it was finished the morning mists had rolled away, the sun had -dried up the heavy dews of the night before, and the distant fields -were calling to the husbandmen. - -Linking her arm through Judith’s, Miriam guided the newcomer through -the one long street of the village. - -“Thou hast a beautiful name, Judith, almost as beautiful as thyself.” - -“A Hittite name, Miriam, what thy people call ‘heathen,’ so it will not -recommend me hereabouts, but thou art named for one of the great women -of thy race.” - -“Oh, not because she was great,” was the quick response, “but because -she was useful and good. Knowest thou not how she cared for her baby -brother, Moses, when she was just a little maid like me?” - -The conversation was cut short by their arrival at a dwelling from -whose open doorway voices floated out upon the balmy air. - -“Thy father and I toiling and sacrificing for thee, our only child, and -thou rebelling when we ask for appreciation and obedience!” - -Another voice, choked with sobs, made answer: “Thou didst have no -objection to Benjamin until Abner fancied me.” - -“Dost thou add impudence to stubbornness? It is well thou hast thy -father and me to see that thy folly doth not ruin thy young life.” - -Catching sight of the two hesitating upon the threshold, the woman -hastened to welcome them, then turned to the girl she had first -addressed: “Wipe away thy tears and take thy water jar. See, Rachel, -here is Miriam and her young kinswoman from the Plain of Sharon, a -maiden of thine own age. Go with them and be diligent in thy task, but -this time next year thy feet will take no such journeys nor thy hands -be so employed, for thou shalt have servants to do thy bidding.” - -The woman turned to her work and the three girls proceeded on their -way, Miriam walking between the grief-stricken Rachel and the envious -Judith, seeking to atone for the silence which had fallen upon each. -Thus she began to speak in joyous enthusiasm: - -“Now that the rains are over for the season, dost thou notice how sweet -is the air? Every breeze bringeth the mingled scent of wild flowers -which the hand of the Lord hath planted to delight the bees and us. -Even from here we can tell what their faces will be like when we see -them closer: anemones and poppies and wild tulips and arbutus and hosts -of others. Even at night it is interesting here, for thou canst not -tell whether thou wilt be awakened by the song of a nightingale or the -howling of a wolf, and in the daytime, see!” - -With a sweep of her arm she indicated the light-green garden patches -and wheat-fields in the valley below them and the darker green of the -olive groves and patches of oaks and pines nestling among the rugged -gray hills on every side. - -Neither of the girls commented and Miriam became silent. - -At the foot of the path they were descending Judith paused to take -breath. “To one who hath but lately come from the level plain along -the seacoast, the mountains are wearying,” she remarked. “Why are thy -cities perched upon the hilltops when thou must grow thy food in the -valleys?” - -As Rachel seemed disinclined to talk, Miriam took it upon herself -to answer: “To be cool in summer and relieved from danger of flood -in winter and safe from our enemies all the time. Knowest thou not -how often the Syrians have swooped down upon us, like birds of prey, -seeking that wherewith to enrich themselves?” Then, in tones of -sympathy: “The path will not seem so steep when thou art used to it. -For to-day do thou rest here and I will make two journeys to the -spring, one for thee and one for me. Thou knowest we are commanded by -our Law to be mindful of strangers because our people were strangers in -the Land of Egypt, and I must remember how lonely I should feel to have -to live where nobody knew or loved me even as thou.” - -Judith, deeply touched, was affectionately declining Miriam’s offer -of rest when a whoop startled alike the echoes and the girls and the -mischievous face of a boy, somewhat older than Miriam, peeped from -behind a rock. - -“Nathan!” The exclamation was full of distress, and Miriam gazed at a -shattered water jar at her feet. “Knowest thou not that jars cost wheat -and sometimes olives? But,” soothingly, “never mind, the jar is not -wasted, for _these_ pieces will make drinking cups and _these_ will do -to carry coals in. They are splendid sherds. Hast thou noticed, Eli,” -as a still older lad came hurrying toward them, “that no matter what is -broken there is always something left?” - -The entire party was busy picking up bits of pottery from the path, -when a youngish man joined them, at sight of whom Rachel immediately -called to mind an errand elsewhere and, with a whispered explanation to -Miriam, promptly disappeared. While the newcomer was apparently known -to the younger girl, her face did not light up with pleasure, although -he addressed her gently. - -Were they bound for the spring? He was going in the same direction. He -had not met Judith before. So she was Miriam’s kinswoman from the Plain -of Sharon where the roses grow. Then Sharon had sent her most beautiful -rose to bloom near the Jordan! And these lads, he ought to know them. -Fine, sturdy boys. Ah, Hannah’s children. He believed that they and -their mother lived on a bit of his land. He had the pleasure, now and -then, of doing them little favors. Of course he knew them, should -probably know them better as time went on. Lads of excellent qualities -indeed! - -His soft voice trailed on and on. After the manner of the Orient, the -man and bays walked ahead, the girls following. - -So, thought Judith, this was Abner, the rich suitor for Rachel’s -unwilling hand and she (Judith) the unwanted guest in an irksome home. -If only their places might be reversed! But no hint of inward agitation -appeared in her outward manner, nor, when the awe with which the boys -had first regarded the newcomer had gradually changed into friendliness -and the elder of the two had been beguiled into telling an original -story, did she appear to do aught but listen. - -He cast it in the form of a fable, after the manner of the young -theological students of the day, the “Sons of the Prophet,” among whom -his father had been numbered: - -“Once there was a young ant who lived with a large colony of its -relatives in the clean, warm earth. It had everything to make it happy, -a good home and abundance of food, yet was it wroth, for its elders -required it to work. ‘Come,’ said they, ‘lend thy strength to the task -of carrying home this grain that we may live and not die when the wet -winter sets in and there is no food to be had.’ - -“This little ant, however, who had never seen a wet winter, was -rebellious and ran off to hide and sulk. Soon it saw a strange sight: -men digging great holes in the fields and coating the floor and walls -with a white substance. With his curiosity aroused, he went back to the -spot day after day until the sun came out with great heat, the harvest -passed and the threshed and winnowed grain was carefully stored in -these underground chambers, the cavities being closed in such a way -that thieves could not readily discover its hiding place. - -“‘Ah,’ said the ant, ‘here is my opportunity. Once inside such a place -as that, I should have no fear of cold or hunger, such as my elders -are always trying to guard against. Naught would I have to do but eat, -sleep and grow fat. Then should I be happy.’ - -“Forthwith he watched his chance and slipped into a little opening just -before the workmen closed it. Alas for his expectations, however, for -where moth and rust could not flourish neither could an ant. In the -stifling atmosphere he began to grow faint. Tortured in body with this -nauseating sickness and in mind with the thought that he had brought -all this trouble upon himself by his sloth and selfishness, he finally -expired.” - -Miriam, who had listened with rapt attention, now beamed upon Judith, -who stifled a yawn. The next instant she clutched the younger maid’s -arm. “See, Miriam, the little gorge below us is filled with innumerable -gray shapes, and from the sound of a reed flute which ascends to us I -perceive that it is a shepherd with his flock.” - -They came nearer the objects pointed out. Miriam gave one look and a -joyous little cry: “It can be no other than my brother, Benjamin, whom -thou hast not met before, Judith. He giveth my father’s flock a drink -below the spring where the water floweth still and quiet so they will -not be frightened. See, he carrieth a lamb in his bosom. Is it not nice -that men wear such long, loose garments belted in at the waist, so they -can gather the fullness together wherewith to carry things?” - -By this time they were near enough for greetings. Miriam bounded -forward with an eager salutation for Benjamin and much compassion for -the lamb. “See, Judith, it is all torn and bleeding, but its good -shepherd hath anointed its wounds with oil and even put some on its -head to comfort and refresh it.” - -Judith listened and smiled. From under lids discreetly lowered she was -conscious that both the very young man and the older one were stealing -glances of approval at her. - -“Peradventure,” she thought, “it may not be so uninteresting here after -all.” - -Abner also listened and smiled, making mental calculations. As he moved -away there was on his face a look of resolution. “Why not?” he communed -with himself. “Fine lads both and can become useful. The younger and -sturdier can care for the young of the flock while my shepherds take -their mothers out to graze. The elder hath a remarkable mind, coming -as he doth of a family which combineth Israel’s piety and culture. He -can be trained as a clerk. There is trading to be done and accounts to -be kept. It should be regarded as a kindness to their mother. Let me -see, how much doth she owe me? Yea, enough and more.” - -Meanwhile Sarah had observed with surprise Rachel’s hasty return and -now watched with some anxiety for Miriam and Judith. - -“I tell thee, Caleb, friendship with a heathen bodeth no good.” - -“Surely, Sarah, no harm can come from caring for the orphan and the -needy as we are commanded in our Law,” and the man’s voice was almost -harsh in its reproof. - -“Seemeth to me it might depend somewhat upon the orphan,” murmured the -woman, softly, “and my heart hath been strangely heavy since I first -beheld this maiden.” - - - - -CHAPTER II - -SURPRISES - - -Caleb’s face expressed entire approval as he looked after Judith, -disappearing down the hill. “Thou seest, Sarah, that all this poor -child needed was instruction in the way of righteousness.” - -“And firmness to see that she walketh therein,” put in the wife. - -“But she hath a willing mind, Sarah. Hast thou not noticed how, of -late, she needeth no second bidding to go to the spring? She doth not -even wait for Miriam to help; she watcheth to see when the jars need -refilling and seeth to them most diligently.” - -“Yea,” was the response, “and I have wondered what--” but Caleb, -sighing, was already taking his way to the valley as Judith neared the -spring. - -A little smile played about her lips. “How strange it is,” she thought, -“that Benjamin’s sheep need a drink of water and our jars must be -refilled at exactly the same time every day!” - -At that very moment Rachel, with a tiny reed basket of bread on her -arm, started in the same direction. - -“If I _should_ see him while I feed the pigeons,” her face was rosy -red, “and he _might_ be somewhere near, although, of course, if I knew -for certain I could not be so bold as to be there too--” - -She entered a little gulch whose narrow walls constantly widened as -one neared the spring. The air was sweet with aromatic shrubs. A -bird hidden somewhere seemed about to burst its throat with melody. -Insects buzzed a little song of content. As the girl appeared, a flock -of wild pigeons rose from various resting places and circled around -her with the familiarity of old friendship. Her thoughts, however, -were elsewhere. Peeping through the bushes, she had seen Benjamin and -Judith, laughing and talking together with all too evident enjoyment. -For a moment--or was it several?--she seemed rooted to the spot with -surprise, then, sick at heart, she had dropped down upon the coarse, -green grass, grateful for the overhanging rocks and bushes which gave -her safe concealment. - -To think of Benjamin, who had never cared for any maid but herself! -They had been childish sweethearts. Around her neck at this very -instant was suspended from a grass-woven chain a bracelet of dried -grasses which he had given her once when they played at a wedding. In -a thousand ways since then and with a tenderness she could not doubt -he had told her of his love. Had he not desired Caleb, his father, to -ask her parents’ consent to their marriage? True it had been refused, -Abner’s proposal having been received unexpectedly a day or so -earlier, yet she and Benjamin had hoped against hope, and now-- - -But the pigeons were insistent. They pecked from her basket. They -alighted upon her shoulders. They watched for the customary open -handful of crumbs from which to eat. Mechanically, since they would not -be denied, she fed them. Abner, passing along the brow of the hill, saw -both tableaux. He stopped, looked, and passed on, pondering deeply. - -“Rachel is the gentler, the sweeter,” he said to himself, “but this -maid from Sharon is likewise pleasing. I wonder! Yea, I wonder!” - -In a little while Judith started homeward, the smile still lingering. -“What a frank, winning boy!” she meditated, “and not unambitious, -either, but I do not envy his charming Rachel the hard work and -self-denial she will have as a shepherd’s wife. Strange how she turneth -from this man Abner, who hath treasures of oil and wine and grain; who -hath men servants and maid servants.” - -She stopped and gazed over field after field of barley and wheat, now -almost ready for the harvest. “Had I but her opportunity!” She stamped -her sandaled foot to the great peril of the water jar and its precious -contents, but her rage soon spent itself and she became thoughtful. At -last she drew a deep breath. - -“Why not?” she asked herself. “Of course an Eastern woman may not -decide whom she will marry, but there is no reason why she should -not try to influence her fate somewhat,” and, quite calm again, even -elated, she turned her face toward the home she found so irksome. - -Scarcely had she passed when two young men crossed hastily the -well-worn path and started to descend the steep sides of the gulch. -Suddenly one placed a detaining hand on the other’s arm and they -dropped down behind a sheltering bush, peering out and speaking -guardedly. - -“Seest thou anything, Isaac?” - -“Naught do I see, Lemuel, but what one is apt to behold all the way -from the Dead Sea to Damascus: a romantic little gorge and a pretty -maiden feeding some wild pigeons. I thought thou hadst discovered -something.” - -His companion regarded him with amusement. “Something thou meanest, -Isaac, to breed distrust or caution or care, whereas the ‘something’ -was only satisfactory. Much hast thou to learn, or peradventure thou -art over-fastidious. Knowest thou not that women were made to delight -the hearts of men--that is, as long as they keep their youth and their -faith in us, which is not long at the best--and that our journey hath -been singularly barren of such interests as lovely maidens far from -home?” - -The information was received coldly. “Far from home, Lemuel, but not -far from what, in this mountainous land, they call a ‘road,’ and not -far from her city’s supply of water. This gorge doubtless containeth -a spring or stream. As thou art aware, they have wells only in the -lowlands. The maiden is therefore not far from protection even if _I_ -were absent.” - -The other laughed sneeringly. “Thy bravery and thine honor doeth credit -to thine house. Peradventure it will purchase thee promotion. It shall -be reported to my lord N-a-a-m-m-m.” - -A hand was placed firmly over his mouth. “Thy indiscretion will spoil -our errand, which shall also be reported and to the same source.” - -A not unmusical cry came echoing down the glen: “R- a- c- h- e- l.” - -The girl with her head in her hands neither moved nor answered, but in -a moment Miriam’s face peeped through the foliage and lighted up with -relief. - -“Everywhere have I searched for thee, Rachel, and Eli hath helped. He -hath a new story, a splendid one. Dost thou not want to hear?” - -Rachel gave a half-hearted assent and the two new arrivals threw -themselves on the coarse green grass near Rachel, while Eli, smiling -in response to Miriam’s eager encouragement, began the story she -considered so wonderful: - -“Once there was a cave which the hand of God had hollowed out of the -limestone hills and in front of which he planted bushes to hide its -mouth. At first the cave was happy enough, but after awhile it became -envious of those in less lonely situations. Right in the midst of its -discontent, however, along came a leopard who was pleased with this -retired spot and brought up a family here. - -“Next, there arrived a band of robbers who slew the wild animals and -deposited themselves and their ill-gotten gains in the cave, hiding by -day and sallying forth at night. At last some of the thieves were slain -in a battle with honest travelers and the rest of the band fled. - -“From that time on the cave-dwellers were of a better class. It -became the abode of the hunted and oppressed. Our father David once -took refuge here from the fury of King Saul, and many a troubled -soul afterward, including the Man of God, Elijah. But its greatest -usefulness came when Queen Jezebel established Baal-worship as the -court religion of Israel and persecuted the prophets of the Lord. - -“At this time Obadiah, the mayor of King Ahab’s court, hid herein fifty -of the hundred prophets he saved from the queen’s vengeance, the cave -being very commodious. Hereafter it was known as ‘the prophet’s cave,’ -and of late years shepherds have kept provender always on hand so they -may resort hither with their flocks when winter storms drive them from -the hills. - -“One day the cave, with the wisdom of years, was reviewing its -history. ‘How foolish was I and ignorant,’ it thought, ‘to be -dissatisfied with the place Jehovah had appointed me when I should not -have been nearly so useful had I been on the highway, where I would -have chosen to be.’” - -The tale ended, Rachel praised it faintly, but the younger girl beamed -delighted appreciation, watching Eli’s departing figure as long as she -could see it. - -“Doth he not make thee feel as if thou wert standing up on tiptoe all -inside, Rachel?” she demanded. “Some day he is going to learn to read -and write and become learned in the Law, as was his father, and go -about the country teaching and prophesying.” - -Rachel put a hand to her head. “Let us go home,” she said, “I feel -weak and ill. Peradventure it is the summer heat which hath come on so -suddenly.” She staggered to her feet. - -Miriam, at once all sympathy, put an arm around her friend’s waist and -they took the steep path out of the gorge, the pigeons still circling -around the empty basket. Only once did the smaller maid speak and that -was just as they came opposite the hiding place of the two strangers. - -“Thou knowest, Rachel, that Eli’s tale was a true one, being of our own -prophet’s cave here in this very glen, thirty paces beyond the fallen -sycamore tree, its mouth hidden by the sumac bushes. Thou wilt remember -how oft we have been there.” - -Rachel murmured an assent and they moved out of sight and hearing. The -young men rose from their cramped positions. - -“The very place, Lemuel, thanks to our small friend, though she knew -not whom she was befriending. This night shall we abide there and mark -the spot for future need. This is a rich little valley. To-morrow we -separate, each taking the way determined aforetime,” and with swift -steps they proceeded in the direction Miriam had indicated. - - * * * * * - -The perfumed breath of May lost its elusive sweetness and became -burdened with the heat of June. The evening meal was over and the last -faint radiance of sunset was swallowed up in darkness. Caleb closed and -barred the heavy door against the summer breezes and the family spread -their sleeping mats in preparation for rest. - -Judith yawned audibly. “So glad am I that this tiresome day hath drawn -to a close.” - -Miriam was scandalized. “Glad that the Sabbath is over? And soon after -sunrise one of the Sons of the Prophet came to instruct the city in the -ways of Jehovah.” - -“But,” insisted Judith, “I like not that long-haired Order of wayside -preachers who shout and denounce and talk mysteries.” - -Caleb felt it his duty to impart information. “Alas, the sacred Order -is not what it was before King Ahab took unto himself the foreign -Queen, Jezebel. A fine soldier and statesman was Ahab, and I doubt not -he believed he benefited Israel by his alliance with our more cultured -and enterprising neighbors, the Phœnicians. He thought much about the -advantages of trade, as shown by his treaty with Ben-hadad, the Syrian -king, whereby the merchants of Israel now have their own street in -Damascus, the great capital city of Syria. - -“Many good qualities had King Ahab, but a sorry day it was for -Israel’s religion when he allowed Queen Jezebel a free hand to spread -Baal-worship, even to the persecution of the prophets of the Lord. -Hundreds were put to death; many fled to more peaceful homes, such as -Egypt, and others still bowed the knee, not so much to the hated Baal -as to the strong authority of the court. Fear threatened to destroy all -that was purest and best in the land, but the Lord of Hosts hearkened -to the distress of his people and granted deliverance by his prophet -Elijah. - -“Since then, and especially in these later years under Elijah’s -successor, Elisha, the prophetic Guilds have been revived in the -hope of spreading piety and some degree of learning among the people -at large; they who have been exposed for so long to the pernicious -teachings of the priests of Baal, as encouraged by that wicked woman, -Jezebel.” - -“But truly the service of Baal is much more joyous than thy worship of -Jehovah with all thy strict observances and commandments,” said Judith, -earnestly, “and why call Queen Jezebel ‘wicked’? It was but courteous -to a foreigner to allow her to bring her own religion into her new -home, and naturally she was anxious to spread the teachings in which -she believed.” - -In tones whose sternness was softened by pity, Caleb bade her hush. -“Thou knowest not what thou sayest. The ‘wicked,’ through the pride -of his heart, will not seek after the one true God. They care not to -know the Law by which we, his chosen, are warned and in keeping of -which there is great reward. It is well that thou shouldst understand -clearly--” - -A hubbub outside claimed attention. Faintly at first, and then nearer -and nearer until it halted outside the very door, came the yelping and -barking of dogs mingled with the sound of running footsteps, and voices. - -Miriam crept to Sarah’s outstretched arms. “O mother,” in a frightened -whisper, “thinkest thou the Syrians be upon us?” - -The mother held her close. Caleb snatched up the goad ordinarily used -for driving oxen, the sharply pointed end of which made a formidable -weapon. From the darkness came a sound of labored breathing and a -woman’s sobbing cry. - -“Open, Caleb. It is only I, Hannah, and my children, Eli and Nathan, -and the dogs rend us.” - -As the door was thrown open to admit them she cried, mournfully, -“Peace, peace be to thy home, though there be none in mine.” - -She was almost incoherent with grief. “The word came to me but a little -while before the Sabbath and I waited until the passing of the holy day -to hurry to thee, my friends. The dogs mistook us for foes and pursued. -In the darkness we stumbled oft and fell. Yea, we are bruised, but our -bodies are less sore than our hearts, for Abner, my creditor, taketh my -two sons, Eli and Nathan, to be bondmen for debt. - -“Since my widowhood have I lived on his land. Oft hath he brought -us food. Once, twice, thrice have I borrowed of him, so kind hath -he seemed. Always he urged me to take more and yet more than I -asked. Never once hath this shame seemed possible. Let us kneel in -supplication to the God of our fathers.” - -“Yea, Hannah, and I doubt not he will hear and answer. Abide thou with -us for a time and to-morrow we will see if aught can be done.” - - - - -CHAPTER III - -VISITORS - - -Over the peaceful Israelitish hills came the piping of a reed flute. -Anyone familiar with the country would know that it was a shepherd, -seeking to assure the flock of his continued presence that they might -fear no evil, but to the young man, scarcely more than a boy, lying -prone on his back in the shade of the bushes, it conveyed nothing at -all, yet it was the only sound which persisted in his consciousness. -He lived by it as much as did the sheep and goats. When the tune was -blithe he saw sunlit fields and abundant harvests; shaded glens and -cool, gurgling streams; a palace and a soldiers’ barracks; the face of -an old, bedridden woman and a delicately pretty girl feeding pigeons in -a romantic spot. When the notes were sad--as they frequently were--he -defended this maid from some grave peril in which the odds were all -against him. - -There came a day, however, when he no longer raved in delirium, but -looked upon his surroundings with recognition in his eyes. He tried to -sit up, to reach a little water-bag that looked cool and comforting, -but finding himself weighted down with a strange heaviness, contented -himself with gazing around wonderingly. The sky seemed so near. No, -it was not the sky. It was a covering of skins sewed together and -stretched from one bush to another over him. Nothing else save the -interminable flute which told his newly awakened senses that the -shepherd was near. It was all so soothing, just lying there, and he was -so unexpectedly weak, that he closed his eyes and sank into a deep and -refreshing slumber. - -When he awoke the canopy over his head had been removed and he gazed -at the brilliant stars. Looking around, he decided that he must be -inside of a sheepfold. By the moonlight he discerned roughly built -stone walls on four sides. The open entrance was guarded by a recumbent -shepherd, staff in hand, alert, watchful. One, two, three other figures -he counted, evidently sleeping heavily beside great gray masses which -he knew must be sheep. All at once a scream pierced the silence, a -hideous, unearthly sound, and then a long, lithe body leaped over the -wall. - -The young man who observed these things knew instinctively that it was -a mountain lion, tempted far from its rocky lair by hunger. He knew -that the shepherds, instantly awakened, would give battle, and that -they would be more than a match for any wild animal in search of food, -but a sense of his own helplessness swept over him. He saw the terror -of the sheep, the mangled body of a victim, heard the cry of its -mother, and then a great wave of sickness shut out sight and sound. He -had fainted from sheer weakness. - -A little later he opened his eyes upon the troubled face of the -shepherd--_his_ shepherd, as he soon learned to call him in distinction -from the others, who paid him but scant attention. It was a kindly, -pleasant face, over-thoughtful perhaps but with health and youth -written large under its tan. In the days that followed, the invalid -found himself grasping at the strength and energy radiated by this -personality, basking in his sunny smile, entertained and quite -frequently instructed by his conversation, cheered and encouraged by -his practical helpfulness. - -If, however, the convalescent was pleased with the shepherd, how much -more was the shepherd pleased with the convalescent! Moved at first -merely by motives of pity and generosity, he soon took a delight in the -presence of the stranger which was wholly inexplicable to himself. He -had never met anyone--at least not a very young man like himself--who -possessed such a fund of general information and seemed to have -such mature judgment. He talked as one who had lived in cities and -associated with those who had seen much of that world which was new and -strange to this mountain lad who had spent his eager, responsive youth -hand-in-hand with Toil and Responsibility, as youth often does in the -East. - -One day, under the shadow of a great rock which shielded them from the -heat of the midsummer sun, they were talking. “How long sayest thou I -have been here, Benjamin?” - -“It is eight weeks, Isaac, since I found thee under the bushes yonder, -sick with fever.” - -“Then eight weeks hast thou cared for me, night and day. How knewest -thou that I was not a robber, or, worse still, what thy countrymen -despise most, a Syrian spy?” The tone was careless and breathed a -laugh, but the speaker glanced searchingly at his companion, who, after -a moment’s silence, replied quietly: - -“I stopped but to consider thy pressing need, Isaac, for our Law -commandeth us to regard the necessity of the stranger, but if I had -thought further, the pack on thy back would have proclaimed thee a -peddler, though thy stock be small. Likewise, thy pronunciation showeth -that our tongue is native to thee and thou hast an Israelitish name.” - -Isaac sighed and there sounded in it something of relief. “My mother -was of thy nation,” he explained, “a captive in Syria, where she -married my father, who was of Egyptian blood and a servant in the same -house with herself. I am named for some of her people and she spoke -to me always in her own language.” Then, hastily, as if he feared -questions: “But for thee I might have died, an awful, burning death -here in the wilderness, without even a drink of cold water to allay my -thirst or a friend to save my body from the vultures.” - -“Think not of it, Isaac. It is only thy departure on the morrow which -saddeneth me. Caring for thee was as balm to a sore heart, better than -all the aromatic herbs in Gilead.” - -Isaac looked questioningly: “A woman?” - -The shepherd assented. “From childhood have I had no thought save _of_ -her and _for_ her. When I could make her a home, I desired my father -to ask her in marriage of her parents, as is our custom. At first -they were willing, as I had believed, but their consent was refused, -the maiden being pleasing to a man of greater means. Yet was she true -to me. I had it from her own lips and through the mouth of my little -sister, Miriam, of whom I have before spoken to thee. All at once -the maiden changed. Deaf, dumb, and blind did she become to all that -concerned me, and when I would see her they said she was sick, which I -cannot believe, and I had to come away without a word of explanation. -It troubleth me.” - -To Isaac, more worldly wise, the reason was plain. “She favoreth the -other,” he said, “and thou shouldst not cherish the memory of one who -hath treated thee with contempt. Canst thou not think of someone else, -Benjamin?” - -The shepherd laughed in a mirthless way. “None to fill her place, -Isaac; nor is it of another she thinketh. Nay! One there was who -always appeared at the spring when I was waiting for my beloved. She -was a clever, amusing maid, but a life with her would be like living on -honey without any bread.” - -Isaac nodded in comprehension. “The same have I felt toward all the -maidens I ever met save one. Once, as I traveled with my pack, I was -able to avert a danger she knew not of, and her face hath been in my -memory ever since. I have not wished to dislodge it. She fed wild -pigeons, I recall, in a romantic little gorge.” - -A silence fell between them, each, with fine feeling, unwilling to ask -for details not volunteered. - -The next day, at parting, Isaac took from his own arm a heavy bracelet -of gold and clasped it around Benjamin’s. “Not for its value,” he -insisted, when the shepherd demurred, “but as a covenant of lasting -friendship ’twixt thee and me. As thou hast saved my life so doth it -belong to thee or thine if in aught I can ever serve thee.” - -The next minute Benjamin was alone. At the turn of the road Isaac -looked back and waved his hand in farewell and the shepherd, with a -sigh, turned to his sheep and his constant thoughts of Rachel. He did -not know that at that very hour events of considerable importance to -both of them were taking place in the little “city” of their nativity. - - * * * * * - -Noontime, whose brightness had no power to dispel the sorrow which -hung over Caleb’s household, saw Judith slipping, with a shudder, out -of its gloomy portal. Abner was coming up the hill as she started to -descend it. She answered his pleasant greeting with assumed diffidence. - -“I hasten, my lord, desiring to spend a time with Rachel, who, as thou -knowest, hath spent these eight weeks and more in the house and mostly -on her bed, suffering from a mysterious sickness none dareth yet to -name. Save that she hath long been secretly betrothed to my kinsman, -Benjamin, who taketh his sheep to the hills, we know not where, and -that her parents are very wroth--yet because thou hast looked with -favor upon the maid would I warn thee--” - -“I thank thee,” he said, slowly, his face somewhat paler than usual, -and the two hurried their separate ways. - -In strange contradiction to such solicitude, however, Judith did not -visit Rachel. She rarely did. It was Miriam who sat by her friend’s -side telling her of Hannah’s plight. - -“There is not enough grain and olive oil in the whole city to satisfy -Abner’s claim and save Eli and Nathan from bondage, nor will he wait -for the next barley and wheat to be harvested. As for grapes and -olives, they will not be ripe for months. Father hath tried to shame -Abner, but he saith he is grieved to be so misunderstood; that Hannah -should be grateful to him for taking upon himself the burden of her -sons’ support.” - -Apparently, Rachel was not in a mood for conversation. The younger girl -gazed at her in great dejection for a few minutes and a tear splashed -down on her hand. “It would be easier to bear other people’s troubles, -Rachel, if one could help. I am going to bathe thy feverish face and -hands and take down thy hair. Thou shalt hold the little mirror of -polished bronze that Ezekiel, thy kinsman in Damascus, sent thee.” -Suiting the action to the word she went on talking: “Damascus must be -a very great city, peradventure almost twice as large as ours. Father -hath told me about the war between Israel and Syria and the treaty of -peace, so that Syrian merchants may come to Israel and a street hath -been set aside in Damascus in which our people may dwell.” - -Rachel seemed to take no more interest in foreign affairs than in -those at home, but the little maid was not discouraged. “Thou art more -comfortable now. Thou hast been sick ever since that day the heat -overcame thee in the gorge when thou wert feeding the pigeons, but thou -dost not have to go on being miserable. Thou knowest, the Lord is thy -strength and song. I am going to see how Hannah doeth and remind her of -this. She abode with us through the night, but now she is in her own -house. First, though, I shall sing thee to sleep. Thou seest I have -brought my timbrel. Then will I steal softly away.” - -Having made good her word, Miriam was about to depart when the kindly -voice of Rachel’s mother detained her: “Stay, Miriam, yet a moment and -take to Hannah this little pot of oil. The gift is not much to her that -dwelleth in the house of sorrow, but it carrieth a message of sympathy.” - -Halfway to her destination Miriam met Judith. “I have been seeking for -thee,” said the older girl. “Knowest thou that we have a guest, a man? -He hath come from a distance in the heat and dust, and I have been to -draw cool, fresh water wherewith to bathe his hands and feet and so -refresh him while thy mother prepareth a meal to set before him.” - -Miriam hazarded a few guesses as to the identity of their visitor, but -Judith shook her head. “It is none whom thou hast mentioned, but who it -is I know not. He weareth a mantle.” - -“Then he is one of the prophets.” - -“Nay, for he is bald and the prophets wear long hair. Neither hath -he the appearance of a fanatic, as do they. Rather, he seemeth like -some well-to-do man of the cities, peradventure a merchant. His speech -is gracious and gentle and he carrieth a walking stick like any -serious-minded, elderly gentleman. He is attended by a younger man and -thy father did him great obeisance. Also--” - -But Judith was alone. Miriam was running like some wild thing straight -to Hannah’s house. Out of breath she stumbled over the threshold and -thrust the pot of oil into the woman’s hands. - -“Hannah--Hannah--the Man of God hath come, my lord Elisha, and even -now sitteth at meat in our house. Do thou go quickly. Thy husband was -of his young men. Do thou tell him about Abner taking Eli and Nathan -as bondmen for debt. Jehovah hath sent him that as God hath been thy -strength, he shall now be thy song. Hasten, Hannah,” but Hannah was -already gone. - -Twenty-four hours later Miriam, wild with excitement, paused on the -threshold of Rachel’s house. Within were voices and while she hesitated -as to whether or not to enter, she heard the message. - -Abner had sent his friend, after the manner of the East, to speak on -the subject of his betrothal to Rachel, not to bring the customary -gifts and make necessary arrangements, but to do the rather unusual -thing: to withdraw his previous proposal on the plea of her ill-health. -The affair was conducted with elaborate civilities on the part of both -the emissary and Rachel’s parents, hiding the contempt of the one and -the rage of the other. - -It was a very awed little Miriam but one with shining eyes who held -Rachel’s hand a few minutes after the messenger had departed. “Art thou -not glad?” she whispered. - -The older girl nodded slightly, aware of her mother’s frown. - -“And Benjamin will be so happy,” Miriam declared, but Rachel sighed. - -“He thinketh no more upon me,” she said, and refused to be comforted. - -The general gloom of the household was soon overborne, however, by the -tidings Miriam had brought. At the feet of the prophet Hannah had knelt -in supplication and he had had compassion upon her distress. - -“At his command,” recited Miriam, joyfully, “we borrowed from our -neighbors all the empty vessels possible, then she and Eli and Nathan -went into their own house and shut the door. Eli told me what happened. -_From the little pot of oil thy mother sent by me, Hannah filled all -those vessels!_ Then came she again to the Man of God, who was still -in our house, and he instructed her what next to do. Now she hath gone -to sell the oil and pay Abner. Yet will there be something left, for I -heard my lord Elisha say unto her, ‘Live thou and thy children _of the -rest_.’” - -When the happy comments had died away Miriam stroked her friend’s hair. -“Why dost thou not ask to be healed, Rachel? Let us go to the Man of -God.” - -But Rachel shook her head. “I must not ask for what I do not want, -Miriam, and when Benjamin no longer thinketh upon me, why should I -desire to get well?” - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -CAPTIVES - - -Autumn had come to the Land of Israel. The sun had just lifted a -shining face, but in more than one city the inhabitants had been long -astir. Before all the more important abodes stood asses, saddled -and laden with water-skin and leather provision bag as if for a -journey. In a little while could be seen broken lines of riders, -singly or in groups, wending their way in slow and dignified fashion -on these same sure-footed animals, over the narrow threads of rocky -roads which traversed hill and vale. All faces were turned in one -direction--Jerusalem. The master of the house was on his way to the -Feast of Tabernacles, or the Feast of the Ingathering, as it was -sometimes called. - -The air had in it a hint of frost, being too chill for rain, but nobody -minded, certainly not a misty-eyed little maid who was walking with her -two travelers to the brow of the hill. - -“I believe thou art glad to see us go, Miriam,” said Caleb, teasingly. - -“Oh, very glad, father. It is right thou shouldst appear before the -Lord with thine offerings, for he hath dealt bountifully with us, and -I am glad thou canst take mother to visit her kindred. Long hath it -been since she hath seen them, and it will make her so happy, but”--the -voice trembled a little--“I would be gladder if this were the day thou -wert coming home.” - -Her parents exchanged glances. - -“Thou knowest that the olive trees had a good crop and the vineyard. -Likewise the flock hath been profitable and thou art thinking of the -nose-ring we shall bring thee, or was it anklets thou didst choose?” - -“I am much more concerned as to her conduct, Caleb, than I am as to her -ornaments,” put in Sarah, hastily. “Remember, Miriam, I shall expect -thee to behave thyself wisely, in a perfect way.” - -“Yea, mother, but when thou and father art gone, how will I know what -is wise and perfect?” - -Sarah regarded her severely. “The Law of the Lord is perfect. See -that thou keep it. The testimony of the Lord is sure, making wise the -simple. Remember it. The commandment of the Lord is right, enlightening -the eyes. Meditate upon it. There is no chance for a mistake if God is -in all thy thoughts. Miriam, wilt thou keep the Lord alway before thy -face?” - -“Yea, mother.” - -“And thou wilt not be turned aside to the right hand nor to the left, -no matter what influence is brought to bear upon thee?” Sarah glanced -apprehensively back at Judith, standing in the open door. - -“Nay, mother.” - -They had come to the place of parting, Caleb walking ahead, leading the -two asses. Judith could not hear what was said, but she could see that -the farewells were lingering and affectionate. A great wave of longing -for her own parents swept over her and she turned into the house to -avoid the unsympathetic and the curious. She did not know, therefore, -that when the travelers were quite hidden from sight in the distance, -Miriam sank upon the ground in a little heap of wretchedness. - -Neither did Judith nor anyone else guess that at that very moment the -mother was nervously fingering the bridle of her beast. “Long have I -wanted to take this journey, Caleb, but it were easier to talk of than -to do. I will go back. I cannot leave the little maid.” - -“Nonsense, Sarah,” and a stranger would have noticed that Caleb’s voice -was none too steady, although he affected cheerfulness. “It will do -thee much good to have a visit among thy kindred.” - -“But thinkest thou all will go well while we are away?” Sarah was still -hesitant. - -“How could they go ill with Hannah to stay with Miriam and Judith, and -Eli and Nathan to see to the animals? Besides, we shall be gone but a -few days. They will be sorry to see us return, for youth joyeth with -youth. Mount, I pray thee, and let us be going, for our pace will be -slow at the best.” - -Reluctantly she yielded to his entreaties, but with many a backward -glance and an anxiety which seemed wholly unwarranted. - -Along the path they had just traversed came Rachel and gathered Miriam -in her arms. “I feared to find thee so, little maid,” she comforted. -“Nay,” compassionately, “thou must not weep. And if thou wilt dry thine -eyes I will tell thee a secret so dear it hath not been whispered -before.” - -It was a rosy and radiant Rachel who was speaking now. “Knowest thou -that when Benjamin came home a few days ago he told me something that -made me very happy? And when he cometh next time we are to be publicly -betrothed. My parents have consented and I have my wedding veil. We -must go back to thy dwelling now, but some day, when there is none to -see but thee, I shall try it on.” - -She raised the limp figure and, talking of the future to divert the -thoughts of her grief-stricken little friend, guided her along the -well-known path toward home. - - * * * * * - -At about the same hour, somewhere out on the Israelitish hills, a -shepherd was leading his flock northward under pressure of military -escort. His face was sullen, but all at once he laughed: “It took -three and more coming to take captive one shepherd of Israel. These -Syrian dogs!” He laughed again, contemptuously. The soldier nearest, -understanding the intent if not the words, struck him with the -broadside of his short sword, and the shepherd laughed no more. - -The monotony of merely going forward was relieved a little later by -the passing of a band of horsemen, coming south. The shepherd listened -apathetically to what was evidently, although he understood not a word, -an exchange of civilities and compliments upon the capture of so large -and fine a flock. He glanced carelessly at the gayly bedecked horse of -the leader and then at the man himself. It was a young man, and all at -once the shepherd’s indifference vanished. He had the face of a friend! -Undoubtedly he and his flock would soon be free. - -Running forward quickly, he knelt and threw up one arm, exposing to -view a broad gold bracelet of exquisite design, by that movement -plainly seeking recognition. The young officer appeared startled for -an instant, then he assumed an air of unconcern and with careless -farewells to the soldier-escort of the flock, he and his men rode on. - -The shepherd crimsoned at the rebuff. “I could swear that were Isaac,” -he muttered, “even to the pallor of his recent illness. Thus hath he -kept his pledge, a promise he made voluntarily. So would a viper repay -the fool who warmed it by his fire!” - -Turning, he found himself the object of mockery and ridicule. -Unfortunately, he allowed rage to get the better of discretion. He was -captured, but not conquered. With a swift movement he struck one of -his tormentors a stinging blow full in the face, but a fellow soldier -used his ever ready spear, and after that, Benjamin the shepherd went -his way limping. - - * * * * * - -It was the next day that Miriam was helping Hannah make butter. That -is to say, a goatskin bag, nearly full of milk, was suspended out of -doors from the center of three crossed poles, and they were shaking and -beating it with great regularity and violence. In due course of time -a product not at all resembling the butter to which we are accustomed -rewarded their labors. With a sigh, the moist and dripping bag was -carried into the house and hung in the coolest spot possible that its -curdled contents might ferment and be used, as needed, to give relish -to otherwise dry bread. - -The task finished, Hannah betook herself to her own home to be gone -an hour or two. Miriam, left alone, dropped down in the doorway. All -day she had been unaccountably heavy of spirit, “not sick,” she had -told Hannah in answer to a solicitous inquiry, “but just not glad of -anything.” - -Was it only yesterday her parents had started on their journey? It -seemed like a week. And what strange sights they must be seeing now! -Very strange indeed could they have seen through Miriam’s eyes, for her -thoughts were soon jumbled by the sprites of Dreamland. When she awoke -the afternoon shadows were lengthening. Hannah had not returned, and -where was Judith? If she were late, Hannah would be sure to tell father -and mother and they would be displeased. Why did she not come? - -Miriam was dismayed, then came a thought, the horror of which sent her -running to the top of the hill, where the path began to descend to the -valley below: suppose Judith had been bitten by a viper out of the -brushwood she had gone to gather for fuel! She was nowhere in sight, -although she had been absent since a little after noon. Slowly Miriam -walked down the hill, gazing long and searchingly in all directions -until she stood in the silence and loneliness of the deserted fields. -How find anybody or anything among those rank grasses, grown taller -than herself now that the harvests were over? Yet at that very instant -Judith must be lying among them somewhere, sick perhaps unto death. - -Running hither and thither and thoroughly alarmed, Miriam essayed -calling. The third time her hail was answered, but not in the way she -had expected. Not Judith but Nathan--Nathan, pale and frightened; -Nathan, entreating her silence but speaking himself in hoarse, excited -whispers. - -“Hush, Miriam, the valley is full of soldiers!” - -She was amazed, incredulous, and he indignant at her unbelief. -“Thinkest thou, Miriam, I know not a soldier when I see one?” he -panted as they ran. “Was not every man covered from neck to thigh, back -and front, with his breast-plate of bronze scales? Did not each wear a -helmet and carry a shield on his left arm and a buckler[1] slung from -his girdle? Some had long and heavy spears; some, bows and arrows and -some had slings, with the stones for them in bags around their necks.” - -“But, Nathan,” suggested Miriam, weakly, “peradventure our king passeth -this way with his bodyguard.” - -“Would our king rob Abner’s storehouses in the field? Nay, and these -have not Israelitish faces. Besides, they came on horses which they -have left at the head of the valley, and thou shouldst know that horses -mean war. Canst thou not run faster, Miriam? We must warn quickly -mother and the city.” - -The little maid’s face blanched. “I must find Judith. Do thou go on and -I--” Nathan’s remonstrances were cut short by the sudden appearance, -out of the tall grass, of a man dressed just as the lad had described. -He laid a detaining hand on each, addressing them in their own -language, but his pronunciation showed that it was acquired. - -“This time to-morrow,” pointing to the village on the hilltop, “our -archers will have bent their bows and made ready their arrows and sent -fire and destruction into the midst of thy city. None shall be left -alive save such as we take into captivity.” - -Miriam wrung her hands and wept, but Nathan spoke defiantly, with -passion in his tones: “Thou knowest not that we of Israel, especially -we of the tribe of Zebulon, fight long and hard, jeoparding our lives -unto the death.” - -An evil smile distorted the man’s features. “Thinkest thou we know not -that thy men are away at the feast in Jerusalem? To-morrow this time -thy land shall be desolate from Jerusalem northward, and we will take -captive thy flocks and thy herds--” - -The speaker was interrupted by the arrival of another soldier, dressed -much the same, but the more elaborate ornamentation of his shield, and -his richly decorated helmet with its crest, denoted a higher rank. -All this, however, was quite lost upon Nathan and Miriam. They noted -only that he was very young--older than Eli, perhaps, but doubtless -younger than Benjamin--that he bent upon them a look not in the least -malevolent, as was that of their captor, and that when he spoke to -them, also in their own tongue, his speech was as free from foreign -accent as their own. Apparently, he had authority, for at a word, the -first soldier withdrew. - -“I happened to overhear,” he told the children. “Fear not nor believe -what Lemuel hath said. He was but teasing thee. Our men went no -farther south than the Valley of Jezreel, which is a long way north of -Jerusalem, and we have not come to make war upon the people but only to -take foodstuffs.” - -The two gazed at him doubtfully. “Peradventure,” sobbed Miriam, “when -thou art asleep the other soldier will do these terrible things.” - -The young man laughed, a mirthful laugh. “Lemuel? Nay, he could not. We -have but a few men and,” with some little pride, “_I_ have been given -charge of this band.” - -He glanced at the rapidly declining sun and his next words were more -decisive. “See, it is almost sunset. We did not come to take prisoners, -but thou wilt understand that I cannot let thee go home to give the -alarm, and afterward thou wilt prefer Syria to Israel.” - -Miriam was distressed anew. - -The young captain reasoned gently: “To-night thy household will think -thou art with friends somewhere, but they cannot seek thee in the -darkness, among the half-wild, scavenger dogs that roam thy villages at -night. By dawn they will have other matters to engage their attention. -Thou wilt go with me now to our encampment in the gorge by the spring. -Come,” to Miriam, “thou shalt have a corner of the prophet’s cave all -to thyself to-night with a leopard’s skin for a covering. Thou wilt -like that, for it was given me by the best man I ever knew, a shepherd -of Israel. And thou,” turning to Nathan, “shalt have the opposite -corner, but I have only one leopard skin and that is for the little -maid.” - -There was something very attractive, very sincere in his address. He -seemed to understand their terror, their distrust. - -“Be not afraid,” he said, “thou shalt be well treated. If not, it will -be because thou dost not treat us well. To-night we encamp. To-morrow -we start for Damascus, but thou shalt both have good care all the way. -Isaac pledgeth thee his word!” - - - - -CHAPTER V - -JOURNEYING - - -When dawn came Miriam was in a heavy slumber. Strange surroundings, -terror, and grief had taken as large a part in keeping her long awake -as her bed on the hard floor or the chill dampness of the cave. She was -still sobbing. The young captain bent over her pityingly for an instant -and tucked in the leopard’s skin to keep her warm, then, leaving a -guard at the door, he and the rest of his men departed upon their -errand. When she awoke she discerned Nathan’s sullen face in the half -light, and it aroused her to an immediate comprehension of their plight. - -He whispered to her: “Thinkest thou I shall go to Damascus a captive? -Did the Man of God save me from bondage in my own country only to go -into worse in a heathen land? Nay, but I shall escape, and when I am -gone be not anxious for me nor unhappy for thyself. I shall come back -to my mother and Eli, and some day we shall rescue thee. Do thou put -confidence in my words. Look here.” - -He bared his arm and shoulder and with gentle fingers she touched the -welts and bruises, exclaiming compassionately. - -He was still unconquered, defiant. “The soldiers gave these to me.” - -“But not when thou wert good and obedient, Nathan.” - -“Nay,” he admitted, and fell into a shamefaced silence. - -She considered a moment. “It seemeth to me, Nathan, there be times when -we cannot help what we do, only _how_ we do. Dost thou not remember how -our father Joseph was sold into bondage in Egypt? If he had refused to -make himself useful or been unfaithful in his tasks--” - -Nathan placed his fingers warningly on his lips and Miriam ceased -speaking as the soldiers swarmed into the cave, so putting an end to -conversation. - -Breakfast had long been over for the men, but in the hurry of departure -the youthful commander did not forget a handful of raisins and dried -figs, together with some parched corn, for his small prisoners. He -insisted that they eat, then, taking the hand of each, they left the -prophet’s cave, turned their backs upon the gorge, and walked leisurely -the valley road to its head, where the animals awaited them. - -“Hast thou ever been on a horse, little maid?” - -“I never saw one but once. That was when the king’s messenger passed -this way.” - -“I shall have to set thee in front of me, on my horse. He will go -faster than an ass but not so fast as a camel at top speed, and in -six days, or maybe seven, we shall be in Damascus. We travel slowly to -accommodate our speed to that of our beasts of burden, heavily laden -with stores from thy rich little valley. The lad will be on another -horse in front of one of the men, but they are rough and boisterous. -Wouldst thou not rather ride with me?” - -Without waiting for assent he lifted her gently to the back of the -animal, gave a few directions to his men, and the column began to -move. There was no saddle and she found herself slipping. She grasped -desperately at the horse’s mane, but Isaac had anticipated this and -held her firmly with one arm. - -“It will be easier when thou art more used to riding,” he comforted, -“but I will not let thee fall.” - -A long, last look at the village on the hillside and then, with eyes -that saw not for tears and a heart that seemed to weigh much more than -her sturdy little body, Miriam left behind all that was dear to her and -began the journey into a far country. - - * * * * * - -An hour later a maiden climbed slowly and painfully the steep path up -from the valley. At the top she met a woman with horrible cuts across -the face and body, weak from loss of blood and leaning on the shoulder -of a lad whose right arm hung useless at his side. - -“Art thou hurt, Judith?” - -“Nay, Hannah, but if thou hadst fled from one terror to another ever -since yesterday afternoon when I first beheld the soldiers coming up -the valley, and had finally lain concealed for hours, not daring to -move lest thou be discovered, chilled by the heavy night dews, stiff -and cramped, frightened and lacking food, thou also wouldst walk with -difficulty.” - -Eli was horrified, reproachful: “Thou knewest the Syrians were upon us -and madest no effort to warn the city? We might have put up a better -defense or saved some of our supplies by hiding them. As it is, many -have suffered, a few even unto death.” - -He paused and looked shudderingly at a swiftly approaching cloud which -darkened the air, then quickly drew his mother inside the nearest -house. “The vultures descend, having scented their prey from afar, yet -few were slain and they only because of desperate resistance. The pale -young man, scarce older than I, who seemed to command the party, had -his men well under control. He reproved the soldier who smote thee, -mother, and stooped over thee with horror in his eyes, himself tying -the cloth which saved thee from bleeding to death and which I could not -tie with one hand. I could love him were he other than a heathen and a -robber!” - -Turning to Judith, who had followed them, his voice became stern: -“Knowest thou that famine stareth us in the face--and thou mightest -have saved it?” - -The girl’s tones were aggrieved: “Gladly would I have borne tidings, -Eli, if I could have done so with safety, but I should have been -captured. They have taken Nathan and Miriam, and a veiled maiden rideth -in the rear who somehow reminded me of Rachel.” - -Hannah clasped Judith’s arm: “Thou sawest Nathan and Miriam? Tell me--” -and Judith, who had seen and heard almost everything of the eventful -hours just past, told the story. - - * * * * * - -Meanwhile Miriam had left the village-crowned hills, the fertile -valleys, the scattered oak groves; crossed a tree-studded, grassy -meadow, a tangle of ferns and brushwood, and descended a gorge in the -midst of which tumbled and roared and foamed a stream. The atmosphere -seemed heavy with a heat not derived from the sun. - -“Hast thou seen the Jordan before, little maid?” - -Her answer was lost in the confusion of fording the river. At a place -sufficiently shallow the horses were led down the steep and slippery -bank, alarmed the moment their feet rested in the soft mud; terrified -on reaching the shingly bottom to feel the swift tug of the current -and the coldness of the rapid waters; cold after their enforced dip -and taking quickly and easily the cliffs and steppes to the broad -plateau above, which seemed the higher because of the depression of the -Jordan Valley. The wind swept chill out of the snow-covered mountains -to the north, toward which they were turning their faces, but after the -heaviness of the valley they had just left, the air was exhilarating -and fragrant with herbage. - -“We are east of the Jordan now, little maid,” explained the young -captain. “Seest thou how much easier it is to travel? It will be fairly -level all the way into Damascus. Thou wilt see continual passing to and -fro; much cattle and many camels and asses, and people that will look -strange to thee, but fear not.” - -He smiled at her reassuringly, but her eyes held a far-away look of -inexpressible sadness, at sight of which he became silent. - - * * * * * - -On the sixth night of the encampment, Isaac was decidedly out of sorts. -Several things had gone wrong and the party was much overdue. There had -first been trouble among the pack-animals. This adjusted, it had been -found that one of the soldiers, whose wounds had been thought of little -consequence, had grown rapidly worse, and, lastly, their boy-captive -had escaped. The veiled woman was gone likewise, but that mattered -little. - -In a retired spot, somewhat removed from the noises of the camp, they -had spread a goat’s-hair tent and built a fire at a little distance so -that its light would not play unpleasantly upon the features so soon to -be relaxed in death. Isaac, who had taken the care of the sick man upon -himself, watched alone save for Miriam, who lay asleep in one corner of -the tent. For six days now he had been solicitous for her comfort, not -from any personal interest but as a matter of war economics. It would -be awkward if fright or cold or hardship should result in her illness -and they so far from Damascus. On her part, the little maid was losing -her fear of this young man, who treated her with no unkindness or lack -of gentle consideration. - -Lost in thought, he sat gazing moodily into the fire. Odd about the -woman! Doubtless she had now joined herself to some one of the caravans -they were constantly passing. Lemuel had described her as a camp -hanger-on, and her veil was evidence of her loose moral character, -since neither matron nor maid of good repute at that period went veiled -save at marriage or while journeying, yet for six days she had shown -every sign of shrinking timidity, and he had seen to it that she was -treated with respect. He had asked Nathan if he knew her, but the boy -had replied sullenly in the negative without turning his head. He had -asked the little maid, but her eyes had been full of tears. For several -reasons it had not seemed best to allow speech between the captives, -and so the mystery had remained. - -He had not himself questioned her, being irritated that she rode the -horse he had brought for the maiden whose face had been in his memory -ever since that day he saw her feeding pigeons in the gorge. He had -meant to show special leniency to her family and thus secure their -consent to a marriage, scorning to take her an unwilling captive; to -force her into an alliance she would abhor, a sin of which certain -other captains he could name had been guilty. However, the maid could -not be found and he bothered his brain with a thousand conjectures. - -That very day a puzzling circumstance had occurred. While searching -for the fugitive lad, Isaac had caught the flutter of a garment and -followed it straight to its hiding place. He had not found the boy, -but this woman had knelt before him, clasping her hands--wondrously -pretty hands, he had noticed--and in a voice remarkably soft and sweet -had besought him to leave her. He had hesitated, and then Chivalry had -gone out to succor Distress. Planting himself in front of her retreat -until the last of his men had passed, he had followed them without one -backward glance. - -Thinking about it now, a doubt of Lemuel’s tale came to his mind -for the first time. The veil might be explained away, but not that -refinement of voice, not--a movement by the fire attracted his -attention. He stared incredulously, for there, hovering over the blaze, -was the girl of his dreams. It could be no other than the face he -had carried in his memory all these months. Stranger even than the -apparition, she had been the veiled woman, for the garment’s tatters -were even now drawn tightly about her shivering form. Behind the girl -somebody appeared and clutched her by the arm. It was a boy--_the_ -boy--but Isaac did not move. Nathan’s alarm exhibited itself in his -voice. - -“I awoke and missed thee. Rachel, knowest thou not that whosoever hath -kindled this fire is not far off?” He scanned the darkness anxiously, -but the outlines of the tent were not visible where it lay, outside the -pale of the firelight. “Come, Rachel. Hast thou no fear?” - -Her tones were the same low, musical ones he had heard that day: “I was -so cold, Nathan, so cold. I watched a long time and saw no one, the -soldiers from whom we escaped being some distance away as thou knowest, -and I became persuaded that if any but an angel had built this fire it -could be none other than a friend. Even now I feel it so.” - -Nevertheless, the boy’s entreaties were not to be denied and after a -time she allowed herself to be led away to their place of concealment. -Isaac noted its direction. He was sick at heart. To think he had had -the opportunity he craved and had not known it. He could have saved her -these hardships and had not done so. And then a savage joy possessed -him. She was his beyond all power of interference. He knew her hiding -place, but he would be careful not to frighten her by any vehemence -of word or action. He would treat her gently, as was due the maiden -who would be acceptable in the great house he called “home.” He would -first provide for her comfort and teach her to trust him, then, when he -offered her honorable marriage, she would accept gladly, gratefully. It -was all so simple. Perhaps it had been best, after all, that things had -turned out this way instead of-- - -A little hand was suddenly slipped into his and a little voice cried -excitedly: “I saw them by the fire: Rachel, the maid to whom my brother -Benjamin is betrothed, and Nathan. Was it not nice she had her wedding -veil to cover herself before all these strange, rough men? But Benjamin -keepeth my father’s flock out on the hills of Israel and knoweth not -how it fareth with Rachel. Wilt thou send him word?” - -The soldier was stunned. He gazed at Miriam stupidly for a moment, for -several moments. At last he seized her face between his hands and held -it where the firelight shone full upon it. “Thy name, little maid,” he -commanded, sharply. - -“Miriam, daughter of Caleb.” - -He fell back a pace, repeating the words as if to recall memories: -“Miriam, daughter of Caleb ... thy brother keeping his father’s flock -on the hills of Israel.... Benjamin, sayest thou?... Thy village -Hannathon, whose outgoing is the Valley of Jiptha-el.... _Benjamin!_ -Ah, strangely familiar hath thy appearance been to me. I wondered whom -thou didst remind me of. And now that I recall it, not only have I -heard thy name but I have seen thee. Thou wert the little maid with -Rachel in the gorge, and there was a lad older than Nathan. ‘Eli,’ his -brother, sayest thou? And I have taken captive Benjamin’s sister! Would -that I had known it six days ago!” - -He resumed his old position near the door of the tent, his head buried -in his hands. “And this maiden, Rachel--Benjamin’s betrothed? Nay, it -cannot be.” - -But Miriam said it was; said it with so much detail he could not doubt; -said it with a calm matter-of-factness that was torture unspeakable -to the listener, who was ill with disappointment; rebellious at the -thought of failure in that which he had resolved; stubbornly determined -to admit no defeat as long as there was one ray of hope. At last, -finding him quite unresponsive, Miriam crept away to her leopard’s skin -bed and sobbed herself to sleep, not knowing that he was so young and -inexperienced and pain so new and strange that he knew not how to meet -it. - -That night he fought the hardest battle of his life, a battle not -with flesh and blood, which were easier to overcome, but with his own -undisciplined spirit, and in the gray of the morning, as he watched -a life embark on the Great Unknown, the better part of him won. When -Miriam awoke he greeted her with the friendly smile she had come to -expect. They would be on the march very soon, he said, but before they -started perhaps they had better talk over something he had in mind, and -then they fell to planning together for the relief of the wayfarers, -Rachel and Nathan. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -DAMASCUS - - -The ninth day, shortly after noon, Isaac’s company neared Damascus. -They traveled slowly, carrying the dead body of their comrade, but not -too slowly for Miriam, to whom grief for the past and uncertainty as -to the future loomed larger than the delights of new experiences. They -paused a moment on the heights above and looked down upon the city. - -Isaac pointed with pride: “Seest thou, little maid, that the buildings, -crowded so closely together and all covered with gray plaster, make -Damascus look like a pearl. It is a pearl set in emeralds, for it lieth -in the midst of fragrant gardens and shady orchards which entirely -surround it, and in which thou mayest travel for hours on hours before -reaching the desert. All this is wrought by our two good friends, the -River Abana and the River Pharpar, which hath made Damascus possible. -Without them this would be but desert sands. The Pharpar flows through -the plains to the south of us, but the Abana, like a faithful servant -to her mistress, the Queen of Cities, washes off the dust of her feet. -Every street and every dwelling hath its marble fountain supplied by -the Abana’s cold and sparkling waters. Freely doth it flow for rich and -poor alike. Thou shalt see its wonders and its beauty.” - -He touched his horse and they moved on, leaving the exhilarating air -of the hills, traversing roads which lay between fascinating vistas -of garden and orchard, such as he had described, and finally entering -the great, crowded gate. To Miriam the city presented more perils than -the wilderness. The bustle of the streets appeared like confusion; the -gayly colored garments everywhere looked odd, even fantastic, while the -cries of the merchandise vendors and the constant din of conversation -in many voices and many languages were bewildering. She drew closer to -the young captain, imploring, fearful. - -He smiled reassuringly. “We stop here, nay, not to dismount but only -to leave the men. This is the ‘barracks’ where I live when I am not at -home, but thou and I go further.” - -She grew faint with apprehension. Was she now to be sold as a slave? -But what else could one expect in this terrible heathen city? - -They were taking the “farther ride” of which he had spoken. “Seest thou -this splendid temple, little maid? Notice its magnificence and its vast -size. It is the House of Rimmon, the sun-god of the Syrians. Nay, not -my god. If I believe at all, and sometimes I wonder how it is possible -to know which god is the true one among so many, it is Jehovah, whom I -was taught to worship even as thou, my mother being a captive from the -Land of Israel like thee.” - -He had not meant to bring that pained expression to Miriam’s face. -All at once he noticed how small she was and how forlorn. His voice -became soothing. “I am taking thee to the house where she went, where -she grew up and married my father, who was chief steward there and an -Egyptian. I was born in that house and call it ‘home’ even yet, for I -am much with my master. It is the House of Naaman, commander-in-chief -of the armies of Syria. I think thou wilt wait upon his wife, Adah. My -sister, Milcah, hath a position of authority among the female servants, -and if she seemeth to thee at first somewhat severe, thou must remember -that she hath much care, so much that her heart hath great ado to show -itself. But peradventure” (questioningly) “thou wouldst enjoy a Quest -for the Hidden Heart?” - -Her answer was prevented by their arrival at the largest abode Miriam -had ever seen, and the next hour was a very trying one. She did not -meet the mistress she was to serve. Instead, she was taken straight -to Milcah, the soldier’s sister, the Lady of the Hidden Heart, whose -welcome was critical rather than cordial. After a little while Isaac -bade her good-by for the present, holding her hand tightly. - -“Thou wilt be happy here, and I will come often to see how thou doest. -Thou must feel free to tell me everything, just as thou wouldst talk -with thy brother, Benjamin.” - -But she would not let him depart. She was in an agony of terror, -clinging to him and begging him piteously not to leave her. - -He was perplexed and distressed. Stooping, he caressed her; took her in -his arms and attempted to soothe her in quite a big-brother fashion; -told her about his debt to Benjamin, which he should repay to her; -reassured her about the kindness of those among whom he had brought -her; promised to come every day; tried to divert her attention to the -fountain in the peaceful courtyard and the other beauties around them; -sought to arouse her courage and inspire hope. After a time she became -calm and suffered him to leave, but before going he had a few sharp -words with his sister, Milcah, who had looked on coldly, impatiently, -at these proceedings. - -“As if I had naught to do but act as child’s nurse! Assuredly she will -be well treated. Hath anything else ever been known in the House of -Naaman?” - -With this ungracious promise he had to be content, but never before had -he taken his way to the barracks with such a heavy heart. He paused -two or three times and looked back, as if debating whether or not to -return, but finally went on. Meanwhile, with expedition and no waste -of sympathy, Miriam was bathed, under Milcah’s direction, and dressed -in garments hastily adapted for the purpose out of those intended for -a much larger maid. The rest of the afternoon time dragged. Miriam, -very forlorn indeed, was yet very brave, as she had promised Isaac to -be. She expected to be put to work immediately, to be given tasks that -would try her strength and patience to the utmost, but, apparently, -there was nothing for her to do. - -Venturing into the courtyard, she observed that if the dwelling looked -large on the outside, it was immense within and sheltered a household -so numerous that the arrival of one more made no difference whatever. -Somewhat later she had her supper, a bounteous meal that she could not -swallow for the lump in her throat, and then Milcah sent her to bed -in a large room with several of the maid servants. It was a softer -bed than any she had ever known, but not one of ease. She lay there -thinking, thinking until the intolerable pain in her throat was at last -relieved by tears, but she was careful to smother the sobs lest she -disturb those whose regular breathing told her they were asleep. She -could reach out her hand and touch them, they were so near, yet she was -alone, quite, quite alone! No one cared about her except, strangely -enough, the soldier who had brought her hither! If she could only -cuddle down in her mother’s arms, or her father’s! Oh, the sobs would -not be stifled! What if the Lady of the Hidden Heart should hear? - -As if in answer to this despairing cry, Milcah stood, looking down -upon her. “Exactly what I feared,” she commented, “and to-morrow no -work will be done because the sound of thy weeping to-night will go -forth to disturb the household. Thus is mischief wrought by a brother’s -thoughtlessness. Do thou come into the room with me, and if thou must -weep, none will be distressed, for much care maketh me always wakeful.” - -Not unkindly though entirely without tenderness, Miriam was assisted to -make the change, but the fountain of tears seemed frozen. For the rest -of the night she lay with wide-open eyes, staring but unseeing, sick -to the very soul. Yet did she not suffer alone. From his comparatively -hard couch over in the barracks, Isaac all at once sprang up, alert, -listening. Noiselessly he crossed the room, opened a door, and stepped -out into the starlight. Still were the voices of traffic and people -which had so terrified Miriam that day. The city slumbered. He looked -across roof after roof to two which towered above the others, ghostlike -in the whiteness of their plastered exteriors. One was the palace, the -other the House of Naaman. - -A long, long while he stood there, then he returned to his bed, -laughing softly. “I grow fanciful,” he said to himself. “I dreamed I -heard the sobbing of the little maid. As if I could at this distance, -or as if she were weeping when she hath doubtless been asleep these -many hours!” - -Yet for some reason the soldier slept but fitfully the remainder of the -night. Into his passive brain swarmed long-forgotten tales he had heard -at his mother’s knee: tales of her captivity; of her loneliness and -home-sickness; but because he had known her only in days of contentment -and prosperity, they had seemed to him but as tales. Now he understood. -With features drawn as if in pain he groaned: “If only, ah, if only!” - -In the morning he went home very early, only to find that the little -maid was too weak and ill to rise. - -His sister spoke her mind without reserve. “I am not pleased, Isaac, -that thou shouldst have brought this child hither. She will be much -trouble and little help. We can do nothing now except endure it, but I -hope thou wilt never take captive another maid.” - -He promised fervently, and Milcah surveyed his retreating form with -great satisfaction. “When I talk to Isaac,” she told herself, “always -can I cause him to see the right, and no other woman hath such -influence with him--so far.” - - * * * * * - -It was truly a wonderful house to which Miriam had come. In the first -place it had no front door. The outside was just a blank wall of gray -plaster with a few small openings, very high up, and instead of a door -there was a gate: a large, highly ornamented, metal gate at which a -keeper always stood. From this you will understand that none of the -rooms looked out upon the street save through those little, latticed -openings above everybody’s heads, the real doors and windows being on -the other side (the inside), where they opened upon a wide veranda -and then upon a square courtyard. You could stand in one doorway, for -example, and see rows and rows of rooms facing the four sides of this -courtyard but not opening into each other. - -You might think you would miss seeing the street, but how could you -when the courtyard had its fountain and grass and flowers and trees and -even birds? All of the courtyards were pretty and peaceful, even that -where the animals were kept, the word “all” being used advisedly, for -while most houses had one court or two or three at most, this one had -seven. You would get lost trying to find your way about. The rooms were -large and high, and so clean and well furnished! On three sides were -low and wide benches, where you sat in the daytime and slept at night -on the soft cushions and thick mattresses which were never put away. -There was nothing else in these apartments, but, of course, there was -nothing else to want except the queer little pans containing lighted -wood or charcoal which would be brought in when it was cold. - -The portion of the building set aside for the use of the master and -mistress and their guests had not more but only more elegant furniture. -Here the courtyard was paved with marble and inside the apartments -the low and wide benches were made of carved cedar inlaid with ivory -and mother-of-pearl and tortoise-shell in intricate designs. Here the -cushions were covered with beautifully colored silks, the mattresses -with heavier material, and there were curtains of silk and linen and -rugs spread down to walk upon. Miriam, surveying this magnificence -surreptitiously, decided that while it was quite right and proper in -such a place and for such a purpose, it was entirely unnecessary for -the rest of the household. With the rooms and verandas all floored and -kept so clean, who would need carpets? And there were almost no ants -or mice! As for cushions, silk would not wear nearly so long, she was -sure, as the sheepskin and goatskin stuffed with wool which were so -plentiful in the other apartments. The master, Naaman, must be very -rich to maintain such a splendid dwelling. It was awe-inspiring just to -contemplate its glories. - -Out of doors it was even more interesting. You could go up a stone -staircase in the corner of one of the courts and come out on the roof. -You need not be afraid. There was no danger. It was only one story -high--although that was very high indeed--and the roof was flat. -Besides, the wall built around the edge would keep you from falling. -You could see so much and so far! You could look down into the narrow -and crowded streets of Damascus itself, where brilliantly garbed -throngs were constantly coming and going on interminable errands, -and beyond that to miles of verdure and swamp land and several -swift, silvery streams, offshoots of the Pharpar and the Abana, and -beyond that still to the long, low-lying bluish-purple hills and the -dun-colored desert. It would be just according to your mood whether or -not your gaze returned to Damascus and fastened itself upon the one -other building more pretentious than this: the palace where dwelt King -Ben-hadad and his court, and then wandered off to the three great gates -of Damascus, through which many entered and some never returned. - -There were numerous people in the household of Naaman, almost as many, -she was sure, as lived in a whole “city” in Israel, so it was not -strange they should have different languages. How very dissimilar each -individual was from the other! Odd that we should all have eyes and -ears and noses and mouths and hair and yet no two look alike! The only -person of the entire household whose ways and speech were the least -familiar was Milcah, sister to the young soldier who had brought her -hither, and Milcah was much, much older than her brother and much, much -harder to please. - -Isaac’s daily visits and trifling gifts of fruit or flowers, at first -received listlessly, gradually acquired greater value in Miriam’s -eyes until they were the only bright spots on an otherwise monotonous -horizon. The marvels of her new home had no charms for her at first. -They dawned upon her gradually as, day after day, with wan face and -lagging footsteps, and in response to Isaac’s encouragement, she roamed -through the big house, smiling wistfully upon those who were often too -busy to smile in response. She was not resentful. The hurt came in the -fact that they were absorbed in their own affairs, in which she had no -part. And in Hannathon she had been so necessary! - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -WAYFARERS - - -The western or southwestern gate of Damascus, that which looked toward -Israel and Egypt, had seen much coming and going of late. Varied -features and varied dispositions, people large and small, old and -young, bond and free, soldiers and civilians, on all manner of business -and pleasure they had passed, but never a couple more likely to attract -attention than the maiden and the boy who now approached. There was -something inexpressibly gentle and refined in her appearance which -contrasted oddly with her tattered garments and the leopard’s skin -drawn closely around her. The boy seemed more fitted for the wilderness -and the hardships they had evidently endured. - -They were talking low and eagerly. “Thinkest thou, Rachel,” with a -touch of scorn, “that the Lord would send an angel in these times and -to us as he did to our fathers?” - -She was sweetly reasonable. “Then how dost thou explain the fire with -no one near it the night when I thought I should die with the cold; -and this leopard’s skin we found next morning near the embers; and the -food--so much we have had enough and to spare; and the water-skin -filled with life-giving water for which we thirsted; and even these -strips of cloth to bind up our bleeding feet, cut on the sharp -rocks, bruised on the rough road? Nay, no matter what thou sayest, -Nathan, I have learned that Jehovah is merciful and gracious, full of -loving-kindness and tender mercies with which we have been surrounded. -Indeed, now that our perils are nearly over, I feel that all I have -gone through hath been but a spiritual experience. The Lord hath been -my strength, just as Miriam told me, and he is about to become my song. -Soon we shall reach the home of my kinsman, Ezekiel, where we shall not -only be safe and well cared for ourselves, but he will know what to do -concerning Miriam.” - -“Look out, Rachel!” Nathan was glaring after a man with a heavy load -who had stumbled against them. “A good thing it is that the road is -straight and smooth. Keep thou close to me and watch thy steps.” - -They had need to. As they proceeded the travel increased. They were -jostled; they jumped quickly out of the way of those who rode, only to -be pushed in another direction by those who walked; they met frowns -and ill-natured remarks and, what was harder to bear, smiles and -unmistakable jests. They had about concluded that Might rather than -Right was the rule of the highway when their opinion was confirmed. As -they came within the shadow of the city gates, but before they could -enter, they were espied by a gay party, looking for sport. - -By the very simple device of joining hands, a circle was formed around -the two unfortunates and they were thus entirely at the will of their -tormentors. Nathan’s rage and Rachel’s entreaties merely added to the -amusement. The circle advanced and retreated, dragging its victims -along with it. They were mimicked with exaggerated pantomime. They were -forced into ridiculous and undignified postures. One, bolder or more -facetious than the rest, indulged in hair-pulling and pinching. - -The roars of laughter attracted the attention of passers-by, who joined -the gathering, some to jeer and encourage, others to inquire and -protest. The crowd grew, the noise increased, the road was obstructed -and, trying to force a passage, many came to angry arguments and -finally to blows. The excitement was quelled only by the arrival of -soldiers, who finally hurried to the scene and in no gentle manner -dispersed the mob. To Rachel, bruised and humiliated, this was a -welcome relief. She did not notice the curious gaze of the soldiers, -the changing expression on the face of one, nor that another looked at -her intently for a moment, then, urging his horse to full speed, set -off in the direction of the House of Naaman. - -Nathan, with wits sharpened by terror, lost none of these things nor -a host of others, and hastily came to the conclusion that their -deliverance was cause only for additional fear. He clutched Rachel’s -hand: “We must go back as we came. Hearest thou? We cannot go into the -city to-day. Dost thou not see that these are the soldiers from whom we -escaped? They will know me and guess whom thou art, even without thy -veil.” - -He was violently pulling backward; the crowd, so long detained and -anxious to make up for lost time, surging forward. As well try to stem -the Jordan with bare hands! They were swept apart, and before Rachel -realized it, she stood within the portals of Damascus, dismayed and -alone. With Miriam in captivity and Nathan lost, it was more than ever -imperative that she find Ezekiel and that without delay, but how? She -stood at one side of the busy footway, anxiously waiting to see if -Nathan would join her. When he did not and she found herself again -attracting attention, she singled out one in the hurrying throng and -appealed to him timidly: “Canst thou direct me to the House of Ezekiel -in the street of the merchants of Israel?” - -The man looked at her, shook his head, and answered in a language she -did not understand. Others she tried, but with no better success. They -were not unkind, merely uncomprehending--and indifferent. Peradventure -if she walked along slowly, constantly seeking, constantly asking, -she might--she must--somewhere discover one of her own people, or -at least one whose speech was the same as her own. Already the sun -was casting long shadows and with a sinking heart Rachel proceeded on -her way, never seeing a soldier who followed her cautiously and at a -safe distance. He also watched the sun. At last he approached near -enough to hear her question, put now not so much with timidity as with -desperation. He addressed her in her own tongue: “I know the man thou -seekest. Thou hast but to come with me.” - -Although his pronunciation was distinctly bad, she turned with pleasure -at the words, but at sight of the speaker she shrank back, shivering. - -“Thoughtest thou to escape?” He was regarding her with a kind of cruel -exultation. “I have found thee again as I swore I would, and now--” - -His hand rested compellingly upon her shoulder. The girl pleaded -tremulously: “Is it not enough that thou shouldst have taken me captive -in Israel? Yet did the God of my fathers preserve me then and later on -the road hither. I shall believe that here in Damascus I shall fare no -worse. Thy name, I know, is Lemuel, and there must be some law, some -protection for the innocent--” - -Despite the bravery of the words her voice faltered. She was weary and -heartsick. Had she endured so much only to fall into danger at every -step? Her captor had drawn her within an alley-way and in the fast -gathering dusk the hurrying pedestrians neither saw nor heard aught -amiss. He spoke in a tone of easy confidence, secure in possession, but -Rachel heeded not. She was planning escape, yet weighed down by a sense -of her own helplessness. With a grip on her arm which made her wince -with pain, she felt herself hurried along to an unknown destination. - -Emerging upon a less frequented thoroughfare, they unexpectedly -encountered two men on horseback, riding slowly and straining their -eyes into the night as if in search of something or somebody. The man -at Rachel’s side glanced carelessly; again more intently and with -a muttered exclamation partially relaxed his hold. That instant’s -indecision lost him his prey. With a strength at which she wondered -Rachel tore herself out of his grasp and fled, whither she knew not. -A few moments had sufficed to change her into a fugitive, afraid of -people, afraid of the torches which the few travelers still abroad were -compelled to carry. She sought only some dark corner in which to stand -panting and then, afraid lest even its kindly shelter be sinister, to -hurry to another. - -It was in the intense darkness and stillness which precedes the dawn -that the girl, utterly exhausted, crouched in the shadow thrown by -a large dwelling and fell into a deep sleep. When the world turned -gray two men on horseback extinguished their torches and approached -the entrance to this abode. The face of one was ashy with fatigue -and disappointment. Observing the huddled figure he bent over it and -uttered a joyful exclamation, beckoning for the other. - -“Our search is ended. While we roamed abroad by night, she whom we -sought found her way alone to protection. Quickly, bring food and water -and borrow a cloak from one of the maid servants, while I remain here -to guard the maiden.” - -The voices awakened the sleeper. Startled and confused, Rachel -found herself gazing into the face of the very young captain who -had commanded the little company of soldiers under whose escort she -had been brought from Israel. She recalled to mind the respect with -which he had seen to it she was treated; his courtesy the day he -had discovered her hiding place, yet fear made her suspicious. She -would have fled once more, but before she could rise she noticed the -compassion in his look, the deference in his manner. His reassuring -words were spoken in her own tongue and as though it were native to him. - -The incident at the gate, he said, and Rachel recalled her experience -with a shudder, had attracted the attention of his servant, who had -brought him word. Together they had sought her through the streets of -the city throughout the night, hoping to aid her, to give her a better -impression of Damascus than she had evidently formed. As they had -returned, almost persuaded that she must have found friends with whom -she was sheltered, they had discovered her asleep, at the portal of the -House of Naaman, of whom she had doubtless heard and who was as good as -he was great. The servant had now gone for some refreshment. When she -had partaken and her strength was somewhat restored, she would permit -him, he hoped, to assist her to make plans for the future. - -All at once the nerve-tension relaxed and Rachel found herself -strangely weak and trembling. She answered with puzzled relief: “Thou -dost not look altogether like my people, but thou speakest as one. -Canst thou direct me to the House of Ezekiel, in the street of the -merchants of Israel? He is my kinsman.” - -The anxious expression left the young man’s face. “Yea,” he said, “as -soon as thou hast eaten and drunken--and here cometh my servant-thou -wilt find that I am the way. Behold, I go before thee. Follow thou me.” - -An hour later Rachel, guided by the soldier, arrived at the street and -the dwelling she had so greatly desired to find, but disappointment -awaited her. “Ezekiel? Yea, he _was_ here,” she was told, “but a month -ago he died and only yesterday his family started back to Israel.” - - * * * * * - -Rachel was not Isaac’s only problem. There was Miriam. That she was -related to the shepherd who had nursed him with tender care through -a long illness meant, to the young man, that he should see to her -welfare; that the gift he had brought his master’s wife from the -enemy’s country should be unappreciated, that the child was unwanted -and unwelcome, stirred him to profound indignation; and that she -grieved for the home and loved ones from which he had ruthlessly taken -her roused his deepest pity. - -In compensation he gave her the best of himself--his leisure moments, -his most unselfish thought. All at once he became critical of his own -motives and those of others. Miriam had such an uncomfortable way of -looking him straight in the eye and innocently inquiring, “Thinkest -thou Jehovah would be pleased?” He had never thought before nor cared. -“Jehovah” was a name his mother reverenced and to which his sister was -not indifferent, but it had meant nothing in particular to him. Now, -however, with the obligation of answering the frank questions of this -small maiden, who seemed to believe him the embodiment of wisdom, he -began to observe and compare conduct, to ask himself what was worth -while and why. As the weeks and months went by, such considerations -could not fail to react upon his own ideals nor remain unnoticed by -others. - -In his wife’s apartments lingered Naaman, soldier-statesman of Syria. -“What thinkest thou, Adah, of the little maid who is of the Land of -Israel?” - -His wife toyed with a silken tassel. “I know not indeed, having seen -her but a time or two and that from a distance.” - -“Then thou dost not care for the present Isaac brought thee, with such -elation, from afar?” Something there was in the cool displeasure of the -tone which caused the lady suddenly to remember that Isaac’s parents -had served her husband’s family; that Isaac’s mother had been Naaman’s -nurse; and that Isaac himself had been born in that very house. - -She hastened to her own defense. “The maid of whom thou speakest hath -been so woe-begone I felt I owed it to myself not to be troubled by her -sadness. Milcah hath borne tidings of her and I was not attracted.” - -His reply was dictated by long observation and much worldly knowledge. -“Milcah taketh precautions lest she be supplanted later. Fear hath -eyes of its own and its vision is oft distorted. Thou wilt be wise, -I think, to judge of the little maid for thyself. It hath been my -experience that where there is a drop of Israelitish blood, there is -trustworthiness. Oft have I wondered if their religion had aught to -do with it. Look thou at Isaac. Because he understandeth the tongue -of Israel, I sent him with Lemuel, kinsman of thy friend, to spy out -the land to the south of us. Of the two, Isaac brought back the more -detailed and reliable information.” - -Adah was glad to turn the conversation into this new channel. “Was it -for this thou didst reward him with the captaincy of a small band? My -friends were somewhat displeased, hoping no doubt for such preferment -for Lemuel.” - -The man frowned. “Should I not reward justly? Isaac is young, thou -sayest? Ah, but age is not a matter of birthdays. He joyeth in -responsibility.” The speaker smiled. “Hast thou not observed his care -over the little maid?” - -Later and alone, Adah, wife of Naaman, sat wrapped in reflection. -It were undoubtedly right and politic to please one’s husband. His -judgment concerning the little maid should be respected. He was -impulsive but astute. Of course, when properly trained, even a tiny -maid would be useful, but oh, the tediousness, the annoyance of the -training! She would be awkward and heedless. Nay, for the present at -least it would be best to wait. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -DOUBTS - - -Almost six months passed. In the House of Amos, friend of that Ezekiel -who had died, sat Rachel, the scalding tears dropping from between her -fingers. She was not unmindful that Rebekah, wife of Amos, was holding -a guarded conversation out in the courtyard with her bosom friend and -that it concerned her. - -“I think her trouble hath affected her mind,” the neighbor was saying. -“When thou wert gone to the Street of the Bakers I peeped in at the -door and she was laughing and crying over a bracelet made of dried -grasses which was hung around her neck. She would have hidden it when -I appeared, but when I insisted upon knowing its history she said it -had been given her by the young shepherd to whom she is betrothed. They -were children then and played at a wedding and she kept the foolish -token. It is the nearest she will ever come to a marriage, poor child, -and I told her so.” - -Rebekah nodded. - -“Thou knowest,” the other woman continued, “that the soldier who -brought her hither cometh not at all since the first day or two, when -he came to inquire how she fared. Then he did not ask to see her, -nor even when he brought thee the gold wherewith to purchase her new -clothing. Didst thou not think it strange that he wished her to think -the gift came from Amos and thee? To my mind it is plain that he -desireth to be rid of the maiden. Peradventure he is relieved to place -the responsibility with thee.” - -Under this positive indictment Rebekah’s double chin quivered. “All -we know of her,” she agreed, “is that some six months ago she came -somewhat after dawn, which hath seemed very odd to me, with a young -soldier, evidently an officer, seeking Ezekiel, and that Amos, in -pity for her distress, took her into our home until we could find out -something about her. Yet, beyond the tale she telleth, we know no more -than at first. Gentle she is and sweet and if what she saith be true--” - -Rebekah’s friend regarded her severely. “The minute I saw her with the -soldier I knew that no good would come of it. Thou didst say the same -and her story goeth but to prove--” - -The voices sunk lower. Rachel could catch the import but not the words. -However, she had heard enough. They doubted her account of herself -and she had no way whereby to prove it. She might, of course, make an -attempt to find the soldier who had been so kind. His name was “Isaac” -and he had spoken of the great House of Naaman as “home,” but she -hesitated to throw herself upon the mercy of any man. The bitterness of -being allowed a shelter on a sufferance which might terminate at any -time! Where was she to go? What to do? And not for herself alone was -she anxious. What had become of Nathan? How fared it with poor little -Miriam? - - * * * * * - -In the meanwhile Miriam, formerly of the Land of Israel, now of the -Land of Syria but always, at least in her happier moments, a dweller in -the Land of Make-Believe, where you and I once lived, had discovered -something new. By piling the cushions high on that wide bench which ran -around three sides of the room, and standing upon them, she could look -through the window-opening out upon the street. The lattice, which kept -out the bats so nicely, would also prevent anyone on the outside from -seeing the face at the window. - -There was so much to be seen close at hand! From the roof, the figures -on the streets of Damascus looked almost as small as had the ants -crawling about their hills in Israel. Why, there was Isaac coming and -he had a timbrel under his arm! She was sure it was for her because she -had mentioned, one day, how much better she could sing the Lord’s songs -when accompanied by music, and they had talked about timbrels. She knew -just how he would give it to her. He would make an elaborate bow and -say: “Fair lady, accept, I pray thee, a fond token of remembrance from -thy faithful subjects beyond the Great Sea who have sent this, through -many and great dangers, by the hand of thy devoted slave.” - -She would take it with very grand airs, just as if she were a fair lady -with subjects beyond the Great Sea and it had been sent through many -dangers, when they both knew that he had bought it for her in that -very city in one of those puzzling little shops he had told her about -and which he was going to take her to see some time. She wondered if -it would be the day he would also take her to see Rachel, who was so -happy in the home of Ezekiel’s friend in the street of the merchants of -Israel. - -Next she would become extremely grave and tell him that just before -he came into the courtyard somebody had thrown him a kiss. She knew -it for a fact, but he would never guess who it was. At first he would -not believe such a thing, then he would reluctantly admit that she -might have seen a kiss thrown, but it was surely meant for someone -else--Milcah, perhaps. This being denied, he would accept her word for -it, but be very much mystified and make so many wild and improbable -guesses as to the source from which it came that it was a great deal of -fun. At last he would give it up and she would have to tell him that -it was herself. At this he would assume a comical expression of relief -and say that such being the case he was not so distressed because, not -having any little sister of his own, he had adopted her, but if it had -been anyone else--here his tone would become tragic--he would be most -uncomfortable, for, as she knew, he was so bashful. At this they would -both laugh, for he was not bashful at all, and their play would be over. - -They would then sit on the marble bench under the damson tree in the -courtyard, where they could see the fountain and hear the birds, and he -would give her a lesson. Every day he taught her a few words of Syrian -and encouraged her to tell him all her experiences since the day before -in that language so that she would the sooner become proficient. Thus -she began to “save up” things to relate and to “pick up” words as she -wandered among the maid servants. He had begun this task as a dreaded -duty. He continued it as a pleasure, finding her intelligent and quick -and her ideas frequently original. - -Miriam neither guessed his one-time aversion to these lessons nor his -present satisfaction. He was learning tact as well as patience. She -only knew that he was sufficiently young to grasp her viewpoint just -as Eli had once done--that Eli about whom she was so voluble. “Because -Benjamin had Rachel to talk to,” she explained, “and I am going to -marry Eli when I grow up.” He wondered why he felt complimented that -she should tell him this “secret,” but he did. In response he gravely -approved her choice, and even asked the privilege of being the friend -of the bridegroom, who would, according to Eastern usage, make the -necessary arrangements! The lesson over he would say good-by until the -next day, and when he had gone she always found that the sun did not -seem to shine so brightly. - -She was still gazing through the lattice when she was suddenly jerked -down, and a voice she had learned to fear said, indignantly, “I know -the man to whom thou art throwing kisses.” - -Miriam fingered her arm ruefully. To get those bruises over that! She -answered a little triumphantly: “Nay, Milcah, it was no man at all. It -was only Isaac.” - -There was a sound from the veranda wonderfully like a stifled laugh, -but it passed unnoticed in the excitement. Milcah’s tones were coldly -severe: “In justice I shall have to say that I can find no fault with -thy general conduct, but I have observed that thou art very bold toward -my brother. Shame on thee!” - -Miriam was stunned. Bold! Why, to be that was to be the worst thing on -earth, for a bold maiden was never respected. Her mother had told her. -After a long minute she found voice: “Thinkest thou I do not know that -‘men’ are strangers or those who have no right to caress thee? Thinkest -thou my mother hath not warned me to be careful? Isaac is not a man. -He is just--just--Isaac. The same as Benjamin. I almost hated him at -first because he took me from my home”--the words came chokingly--“but -he hath explained to me that he cannot take me back, yet he repenteth -of the evil he hath done and seeketh to make me happy. _Thou_ hast -never been kind--nor anyone else in this big house save Isaac--” - -She could say no more, but with heart almost bursting under its load of -grief and misunderstanding, she ran swiftly past Isaac without seeing -him and hid somewhere to weep for the mother she never expected to see -again. Milcah was limp with despair when her brother entered the room. - -“At her age _I_ never attracted a man’s attention.” - -“Nor at any age, sister.” - -The woman glanced at him quickly and beheld what she had never thought -to see in his face--a wrath so great that she cowered before it. His -tones were new and strange: “Oft hast thou told me, sister, of our -great leader, Moses, who met Jehovah face to face in the flaming bush -of the desert. I go to the desert but to fight its wandering hordes of -warriors. Hast thou considered where _I_ am to meet Jehovah? Might it -not be in the pure heart of this little maid? Certainly I have done -nothing to deserve her gratitude and affection, and thou as little; -but if I were worthy, I think there is naught that could hold a man to -higher thoughts and better deeds than the trust and expectancy in the -eyes of a child.” - -The speaker departed hurriedly. He too could say no more, for quite -suddenly his own shortcomings swarmed before him like black specters -with murderous intent. Why had he not told Miriam of her brother’s -captivity? Why had he not taken her to see Rachel? Why had he failed -to tell the older maiden of the presence in Syria of her betrothed? -Why had he not sought out Benjamin, as he had long ago promised? Was -it enough that he had assured himself of his benefactor’s safety? Nay, -he lacked courage. That was it: he was afraid, he, a soldier! He was -afraid to lose the flattering confidence of the little maid; afraid to -expose himself to the fascination Rachel still held for him; afraid to -confess the injury he had unwittingly wrought Benjamin, the man to whom -he was indebted. The thought was bitter: he--afraid. Yet it was true. -He would begin reparation by telling Miriam of Benjamin; by taking her -this very day to see Rachel; but she was nowhere to be found and he -went away regretful. On the morrow, if he could obtain permission, he -would be far away. _If_ he could obtain permission! Did he not come and -go at another’s will? The morrow might bring duties elsewhere. - -Milcah, when Isaac had gone, sat down weakly upon the bench which had -been the scene of Miriam’s transgression. She was face to face with a -stupendous thought. Her young brother was growing into manhood. He -formed his own opinions and defended them. She had lost her baby! She -said the words over slowly, trying to comprehend; trying to tear loose -her heart-strings; trying to imagine him as he would be in the future. -She was dazed, bewildered, sorrowful. That he should have rebelled -against words spoken for his own good; should have defied her, to whom -he was so dear! The outburst had been so unnecessary, and then her -anger flamed against Miriam. Had it not been for _her_ it would never -have happened. Always was there a maid, large or small, to come between -a man and his family. Had she not seen it? It was the way of the world. -The only thing that saved the present situation was that this was a -little maid. How careful she would have to be never to offend one whom -he loved! - -Meditating irritably, she was annoyed to find a small figure in her -lap, a wet cheek pressed to hers: “I am sorry, Milcah, that I said -thou wert not kind. I should have remembered thou wert not brought -up in Israel, and so thou dost not know about ‘showing forth his -loving-kindness in the morning and his faithfulness every night,’ but -be of good comfort, I will show thee how.” - -The woman gasped. “I need not,” she commenced indignantly, and broke -off the sentence in the middle, glaring in displeasure but utter -helplessness into the tear-stained face of this unwelcome child who -was taking such unwarranted liberties. No one else would dare! Yet it -was distinctly pleasant to feel those clinging little arms. It roused -one to such unexpectedly human emotions. She wondered how it would have -been if her mother had not frowned upon Somebody. If the brief romance, -so quickly stifled, had come true, if she had married, would a little -maid of her very own be making charming overtures of affection like -this one? - -All at once Milcah gathered the child to her bosom, a little awed at -the overpowering sweetness of it but wholly lost in its joy. Without -premeditation she was whispering soft words which had never been used -since Isaac had needed them; words which came falteringly from a tongue -to which they were new and strange; words she had thought never to -speak again. A long time they sat thus while a maid servant peeped in -at the door and, amazed at what she saw, went away stealthily to tell -the tale to those who scoffed at it as impossible. - -Thus did Miriam end her Quest of the Hidden Heart, the same having been -found. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -INTRODUCTIONS - - -It was a week later that Milcah’s voice interrupted Miriam’s slumbers: -“Arise quickly and prepare thyself. This day thou goest with me to the -shop of Amos, the perfumer.” - -A pair of bright eyes flew open, a cheerful voice answered, and an -agile little body was soon robing itself. - -“Nay, not that garment, Miriam, but this which I have had woven for -thee, and sandals for street-wear and this padded cloak. The morning is -cool.” - -The recipient of these unusual attentions gazed with delight, touching -the gifts with admiration and wonder. “’Tis so white, Milcah, the robe, -I mean, and it hath such a beautiful border of colored threads. I like -it better than fringe and I never had so fine a cloak before nor such -expensive sandals. They are like a pair sent to Rachel from this very -city by her kinsman, Ezekiel.” - -It had been a very different week from any Miriam had passed before. -Milcah’s awkward motherliness had been all the more welcome since Isaac -had been away on business for his master. She had seen him for but a -brief and serious moment. - -“When I return,” he had told her, “I must tell thee something thou -shouldst have known before. Also, thou shalt see Rachel, but to-day -there is not time enough,” and he was gone. - -The speech had led to much speculation as to what that “something” -might be, but then she was puzzled by quite a number of things in the -new life. For instance, it was not a joyous household. No one was ever -merry, and if any inadvertently laughed aloud, he or she immediately -assumed an apologetic attitude which seemed strange when coupled with -the evident prosperity of the House of Naaman. Also, though of lesser -importance, there was one door in the Women’s Courtyard which never -remained open and through which none passed save Milcah and, less -often, Isaac. Miriam had never asked questions. To her, the Closed Door -was an accepted but mystifying fact just as was the Joyless Household; -just as had been the Lady of the Hidden Heart by whose side she was now -crossing the courtyard. - -At a point just outside the gate they met Isaac, who greeted them -hurriedly. He had returned but an hour ago, he said, and was even now -setting off on another errand on which he would be gone a few days. -This being not unusual and Milcah likewise disposed to hasten, they -went their separate ways, but Miriam was distinctly disappointed. He -had not noticed the new garments of which she was so happily conscious; -he had not inquired where she went on this, the first occasion she -had left the House of Naaman since she had entered it; he had scarcely -seemed to see her at all. - -Wondering much, she walked very soberly by Milcah’s side, but the -marvelous experiences of the next two hours crowded unpleasant -remembrances from her mind. For the first time she viewed close at hand -the streets and bazaars of Damascus; those crowded streets at which -she had once been affrighted; which she had so often observed from -the roof; which seemed mysteriously shorn of terror now; those small, -stall-like bazaars Isaac had described, crowded with every conceivable -merchandise, salable articles hung on the walls and piled on the -ground, the merchants sitting cross-legged in the center of their -wares. It was all so bewilderingly different from Hannathon, the only -“city” she had ever seen save Damascus! - -The stern lines of Milcah’s mouth relaxed into a little smile as she -answered eager, excited questions and looked into the flushed face of -her companion. “The child taketh dress,” she thought to herself. “She -is not so unattractive as at first and she commenteth with intelligence -upon what she sees. Peradventure she may become useful to me. Her -nimble feet may oft save mine own from weariness. At once will I -begin--” - -But Milcah’s thoughts received an unexpected check. She stopped short, -amazed and displeased, for there, on the footway of the busy street, -in front of the shop of Amos the perfumer, stood Isaac, talking low and -earnestly with a maiden whose full face was not visible from where they -stood. The two saw only each other, paying no attention whatever to the -jostling throngs which surged past them. - -Milcah drew Miriam a little aside: “So this was the meaning of his -haste! Deaf is he and blind to his only sister, and when he is married -he will have time for neither thee nor me.” She was greatly agitated, -and her impressive tones carried an unaccountable chill to the heart of -her listener. She had lost her friend! That was why he had not seemed -to see her that morning. It would always be that way. Miriam brushed -away a tear as the two parted with lingering adieux. - -For the first time they saw the face of the girl at whom he was still -smiling, and Milcah was not relieved to note that she was of undoubted -beauty. Evidently, too, she was of Israelitish blood, which made the -situation all the more hopeless. It would be easier to urge objections -against one of another race. With determination she turned to Miriam. - -“The maiden went into the House of Amos. With him have I business -regarding perfumes for my mistress and with his wife have I some -acquaintance, so that I may, with no impropriety, inquire the meaning -of what we have witnessed. I would know how long this hath continued -and something of the maid herself. Before I am obliged to accept her -as a sister I desire to learn--” - -But Milcah was speaking to empty air. Miriam had already disappeared -within the doorway and when the woman arrived and had exchanged with -the inmates of the dwelling the elaborate courtesies of the East, she -found the child and the strange maiden wholly engrossed in a happy -conversation. The older girl at last became aware of voices near and -questioning, annoyed glances. She looked up with a face transfigured -with joy. - -“Two beautiful surprises hath come to me to-day: this little maid and -before that Isaac came--” - -Rachel paused, perceiving the sudden coolness with which her words were -received, but lifting her head a trifle defiantly she concluded the -sentence almost with triumph: “And within the month I am to be publicly -betrothed.” - -“I suppose,” commented Milcah, “that thou art counting the days.” - -The girl looked her steadily in the eye: “I never wanted anything in my -life so much as I want a home in which I may hide from the cruelties I -have suffered since I was taken captive.” She brushed away a tear. “Yet -I would not be ungrateful for all the mercies vouchsafed unto me by the -God of my fathers, nor would I be so unjust to my betrothed as to marry -him if I did not love him much, much more than my own ease or comfort.” - -A blush overspread her cheek and she smiled down at Miriam, whom she -was holding in a close embrace. - -“Then thou art very sure thou lovest him and wilt make him a worthy -wife; that thou art not taking advantage of his goodness of heart nor -considering thyself first of all.” Milcah’s tone was judicial, almost -accusing. - -Rachel answered slowly, wonderingly: “I know not why thou shouldst -ask, but since our vows are soon to be said before the world there is -no reason why I should not tell thee how I love him, have always loved -him--as he loveth me.” - -Milcah’s heart sank. Here was confirmation of her worst fears. She -loved him too. She did not wish him to marry this maiden, nor any -other, but if his heart were set in this direction, she would not want -him disappointed. She would try to approve his choice; try to forget -her own loneliness when he should be absorbed in someone else and -forget her, as was natural, as all men did forget their families when -once they were married. - -A little hand was laid against her arm, a little voice with compassion -in it was urging her to listen. In the light of what had gone before, -Miriam had understood Milcah’s remarks as Rachel could not; had -comprehended Milcah’s thoughts from the despair on her countenance, and -now came to the rescue of both. With a thrill of being at last needed -she realized that she held the key to an embarrassing situation. How -much more she knew of the whole matter than anyone else present! She -could guess why Isaac had come. Had he not promised to take care of -Rachel for Benjamin, to whom he was indebted? Into an atmosphere thick -with misunderstanding, Miriam volubly poured her explanations. - -And now, she concluded, Isaac had gone to bring Benjamin, to whom -Rachel was betrothed, lacking only the public acknowledgment. Not until -Rachel told her did Miriam know he was also in Syria, a captive with -his flock, Isaac having spared to tell her lest she grieve for the -desolation of her parents. Her voice choked. But now that Rachel had no -home (Rebekah winced), she was glad he was near. - -“Thinkest thou he will come?” asked Rebekah’s friend, sharply. “Will he -not resent the--the--interest of the soldier?” - -Rachel answered with a trace of indignation. “He will be grateful to -the soldier, for much kindness hath Isaac showed me and asked naught in -return.” - -Milcah, likewise indignant at the slur, found herself liking Rachel -immensely. In this maiden’s hands her brother’s reputation was quite -safe. - -Miriam assured them that he _would_ come and that without delay, and -went on to add numberless details which bore the manifest stamp of -truth, even to the mention of the sandals she was wearing, which were -so very like a pair Ezekiel had once sent Rachel. - -Long after farewells had been said and the visitors had departed, -Rachel caressed the grass-woven bracelet strung from a chain around her -neck, oblivious to comments, unheeding the low-toned conference between -Rebekah and her friend. - -“The minute I saw her with him,” Rebekah was saying, “never did I doubt -either of them nor the tale they told.” - -“Never,” agreed her friend, “and she with looks and ways so like -Ezekiel, as we have often said.” - -“Well do I remember,” continued Rebekah, “the gifts he sent to Israel -and with what praise he spoke of this young kinswoman! The child, -Miriam, recalleth it to my mind. A lovable little maid! Ah me, how fast -they grow! To think I should not have known Isaac, a man now and an -officer, when as a lad his sister hath oft brought him to the shop!” - -“If only the maiden were betrothed to the soldier!” sighed the friend, -“but to a wandering shepherd!” - -“Yea,” Rebekah answered, sorrowfully, “and a sad day will it be for -Amos and me when we shall have to lose our sweet little Rachel!” - - * * * * * - -That visit changed Miriam’s whole attitude toward her new life. -Although her longing for her parents and the old familiar faces and -places remained almost overpowering at times, yet in Rachel’s presence -and Benjamin’s nearness she discovered comforting home ties. The -certainty that her brother would soon be in Damascus and that she was -free to visit her friend, did much to bring contentment. A captive -she might be, but not a prisoner. The color began to come back to the -pale cheeks; she grew more cheerful and energetic, more diligent in -seeking ways of usefulness, and that is how it happened that she had an -adventure while Isaac was gone. She walked straight through the Closed -Door and stepped--not on but still further into--Milcah’s heart. - -It was Memory that opened the door and Kindness which escorted her over -the threshold, and it all came about through her new timbrel. She was -singing in the courtyard and inadvertently paused near the Closed Door. - - “Show me thy ways, O Lord; - Teach me thy paths. - Guide me in thy truth and teach me; - For thou art the God of my salvation; - For thee do I wait all the day.” - -Looking up, she was startled to find Milcah at hand with a hesitant -invitation. - -“I never told thee before and asked Isaac not to let thee know that our -mother is living, lest thou annoy her. She is old and bedridden, and I -thought she would not enjoy having a child around, but to-day she hath -heard thee singing the Lord’s songs in which she rejoiceth and hath -asked that thou shouldst be brought to her. Dost thou wish to go? She -is a native of Israel.” - -“Take me quickly, Milcah. I would be so very glad to sing to her,” and -though the woman looked incredulous, she did not delay. - -Behind the Closed Door was a sight that ordinarily would not appeal to -youth, for age is not beautiful in the East. Wrinkled, bald, toothless -and feeble, it excited compassion in the heart of the little visitor. -She went to the bed and spoke kindly, stooping to peer into the weak -eyes and to pat the worn hand. Then, at a command, she picked up her -timbrel and sang again: - - “Blessed be the Lord, - Because he hath heard the voice of my supplications. - The Lord is my strength and my shield, - In him hath my heart trusted, - And I am helped; - Therefore my heart greatly rejoiceth, - And with my song will I praise him.” - -That was only the beginning: the beginning of that particular visit -and of others which followed, and in between the songs were snatches -of conversation in the speech of Israel. In her youth the invalid had -been a resident of Tish-bi (or Tish-beh) in Gilead, the cattle country -east of the Jordan, in whose fertile valleys grew the spicy herbs for -medicine and perfume which had made her land famous all over the East. - -In her village were the home and kinsfolk of Elijah, the prophet of -Jehovah, whom she well remembered with his long, thick hair, his -girdle of skins and his sheepskin mantle or cloak, and more than one -tale did she tell of his prowess in strength, for, exposed to the -raids of the fierce desert tribes as was Gilead on the east, every man -must be a soldier at need. She told of the prophet’s earnestness and -eloquence, his stormy moods of exaltation and despair, his wanderings, -his sudden reappearances where least expected, his invectives against -Baal by which he had roused the ire of the foreign Queen Jezebel, his -miraculous escapes from personal danger and the staggering blow he -finally gave Baal-worship on Mount Carmel. - -Only through Miriam’s eyes, however, did she know Elijah’s successor, -Elisha the Healer, the civilized man who dwelt in cities, who for the -most part went about displaying the loving-kindness of Jehovah rather -than his terrible might; whose task it was to build up as Elijah’s had -been to destroy; who established the prophetic Guilds wherein the Law -which had been so long forgotten was once more taught. And then Miriam -and her new friend fell into more personal confidences, comparing -notes as to their coming to Syria, their impressions, their longings, -weeping and smiling together and parting only to visit again at the -earliest opportunity. - -Thus did Hope, nature’s most renowned and successful physician, -undertake the cure of the little maid’s wounded heart as, far away, it -was doing likewise for her mother, though Miriam knew it not. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -HANNATHON - - -The village or “city” of Hannathon in the Land of Israel saw startling -changes as a result of the Syrian raid. Gone were the flocks and herds; -gone were the stores of oil and wine; gone was the lately garnered -grain, and they who had journeyed to Jerusalem to the feast returned to -scant supplies. It was Eli who waited for them at the foot of the hill -and broke the news to the little companies as they arrived, but Caleb, -father of Miriam, came not. - -“He tarrieth a day or two behind us,” said his friends, and Eli waited -impatiently one day and a second and yet a third after the last of his -townsmen had straggled up the hill. Then it was Sarah, and not Caleb, -who met his view, riding dejectedly her faithful and weary beast and -leading the other, on the back of which was bound something still and -covered. - -As Caleb had traveled, making what haste he could in pleasant -anticipation of home and family, he had been set upon by thieves. He -had not risen from the narrow, rocky road in which he had fallen from -the blows of the robber band, but the timely arrival of other pilgrims -had doubtless saved her from the same fate. They had dragged his -body into a convenient cave while they tried frantically to restore -breathing, but finding it quite useless they had bound the burden to -the back of his patient ass and accompanied her to within sight of -Hannathon. - -In the pitiful horror of her tale Eli felt that his own was matched. If -he could only spare her! But he could not, and told her as tenderly as -possible. She listened numbly, without exclamation, without tears. It -was as if brain and nerves had already borne more than they could take -cognizance of. After a time he helped her up the hill, where Judith was -waiting; waiting in dread of the displeasure she knew she merited, yet -keyed up to defiance. There was, however, no harsh rebuke. In fact, -Sarah seemed scarcely to recognize her as she leaned heavily upon Eli. -Hastily Judith unrolled the thickly padded rug or quilt which served as -a bed and the two laid her upon it. Without a word she turned her face -to the wall and Eli beckoned the girl to the door, where he whispered -the sad news concerning Caleb. - -Later in the day a crowd of white-faced men and women laid the body -reverently away and sealed the rocky tomb with a heavy stone. Sarah, -on her bed, appeared unconscious of all that passed, and Judith would -not leave her. After doing a hundred things which occurred to her as -necessary for the bodily comfort of her kinswoman, the girl patiently -watched the long night through, the one witness to Sarah’s dumb agony. -Eli was, of course, with his mother. A neighbor, coming to offer her -services, had said that Hannah might not live. - -Mad fancies took possession of Judith that awful night. She had the -feeling that every hour was a year and that, by morning, she would be -an old, old woman. Again, she was a mother, brooding over a sick babe, -and she stroked the head on the mattress and murmured soothing words. -At other times she had a wild desire to shriek, to tear her hair, to -stamp and rave, but in the presence of that awful stillness came peace. -In the gray of the morning she opened the heavy front door and let in a -stream of sweet, cool air. As she stood there her mind cleared. - -There was something tangible about that long street with its -flat-roofed houses, seen dimly through the mist; there was something -tangible about that silvery rim rising higher and higher in the east -and gradually dissipating the shadows; there was something tangible in -the chill wind that swept over and around her. In a little while she -would go for fuel. They would enjoy the warmth of a fire even if there -was little to eat. As she turned back into the house Sarah broke her -long silence. She was holding something in her hand and peering at it. - -“Neither husband nor son,” she was saying in a voice very unlike her -own, “but this--_this_--which can avail nothing; this for which hath -been spent the earnings of years; this for which Caleb was slain and -which was yet not found because I had hidden it; this which hath no -power to avenge my daughter or to bring me back my loved ones or to do -aught but torment with its impotency.” - -Raising up on her elbow, she threw out of the door whatever it was she -held in her hand, and lay back exhausted. After a moment she went on in -that strangely rambling tone: “Neither husband nor son to avenge the -captivity of my daughter; to--” - -A tall form stood in the doorway. It was Eli. At the words he came -forward and bent over the figure on the pallet, his hot tears dropping -on her face. - -“The son who is without a mother shall care for the mother who is -without a son. An hour ago my mother fell victim to the soldier’s -sword.” He clinched his hands and drew a long, sobbing breath. “I will -avenge thy daughter and my brother and my mother. For one thing only -will I live henceforth: to follow into Syria those who are gone; to -find them and to secure their ransom. Their sorrows shall be mine; -their weeping shall be even as mine own, and woe unto him by whom they -were taken!” - -The woman seemed strangely excited. She rose unsteadily and tottered -to the door. “I threw away that which would help thee to accomplish -thy vow. It was a pearl, a pearl of great price which we brought from -Jerusalem, meaning to give it to Miriam when she is older.” - -Attempting to cross the threshold she fell, overborne by lack of -nourishment, weariness and grief. Eli raised her with his one good arm -and he and Judith again laid her on the bed. He lingered, speaking -comforting words the while: “When it is fully light we will look for -thy pearl. Fear not, it shall be found. Judith and I will seek--” but -Judith was slipping hastily away. - -“I go for firewood,” she explained, and partially closed the door -behind her. Once outside and assured that Eli still sat beside her -aunt, she sank to her knees and groped upon the ground. Handfuls of -earth, sticks and stones, thorns and stinging ants rewarded her search, -but she cared not. The sun rose higher and she lifted her head in -smiling thankfulness. At last she rose, rejoicing, clutching something -in her hand, hugging it to her bosom. - -She was about to re-enter the house when, far below her, she espied -the familiar figure of a man. In demonstrative Eastern fashion he was -beating his breast and pouring dust upon his head, customs indicative -of overwhelming sorrow. The girl suddenly changed her mind and went -down the hill, passing the man but paying no attention to him. Half -an hour later he passed her where she was industriously and demurely -gathering brush. In the common calamity Eastern etiquette might well be -disregarded. He stopped to speak to her as though she had been a man -and an equal. - -“Woe is me,” he began. “Gone are my flocks and herds; gone are my -stores of wine and olives; gone is my newly garnered grain; naught -remaineth but the bare fields wherewith to mock me while famine and -sickness and death stare our village in the face.” - -“Not to mock thee, my lord,” she replied, her voice low from -nervousness and the fear of being overheard by some unsuspected -passer-by, “not to mock thee do thy fields stare thee in the face, but -to save us from the disasters thou dost mention.” - -His tones held surprise and a certain amount of incredulity. “A prudent -mind is thine, but long will it be until next harvest, and how shall we -live until then?” He regarded her shrewdly while she made answer. - -“In our house is a little food; in Hannah’s a little more; probably -some remaineth in every dwelling. Do thou go quickly, my lord, gather -up whatever there be and put it in thy storehouse. Then it shall be -that day by day the people shall come unto thee for food and thou shalt -apportion it, so-much and so-much for each person. Thus shall the -gluttonous divide with him that hath little and so shall all be fed. -Fear not, thou shalt plant and reap in due time. Hasten, my lord, the -village waiteth upon thee.” - -In his eyes was frank admiration. “Wise are thy words and quickly will -I do as thou sayest, but how thinkest thou I can plant without seed and -reap with nothing wherewith to sow?” - -Judith’s hand opened and trembling a little she held before his dazzled -eyes the pearl she had just found: “A jewel, my lord, given unto me by -my father and kept hidden until now. Do thou take it and go unto other -cities and buy seed. So shalt thou and I and the village be saved from -death and thy prosperity come again. Only, I pray thee, tell no one -whence came the pearl.” - -She paused, a world of entreaty in her manner. He assented, his hand -clutching the jewel, but his eyes fastened upon her. - -“Most discreet art thou of all the women of Israel and long hath my -soul cleaved unto thee. I will do as thou sayest, and when I return it -shall be, if thou thinkest well, that I shall ask for thee at the hands -of thy kinswoman, Sarah, and thou shalt be my wife.” - -Judith stooped without haste and picked up her bundle of brush. “Yea, -my lord,” she murmured, preparing to leave him and dropping her eyelids -to hide an exultant gleam, “thy servant shall be obedient unto thy -wishes in the matter.” - -Halfway up the hill she paused and looked back. He was diligently -examining the pearl. Her lip curled slightly. - -“Thy _soul_ cleaveth unto me, thou sayest? Nay, for hereabouts they say -thou hast none.” She laughed to herself. “When a faithless Israelite -taketh unto himself a wife who is a ‘heathen’ they who know us will -say that no worse fate could come to either. And when the two who are -most despised form an alliance, each should know that there is no -friend save in the other.” - -The sun had risen fully when Judith returned to the house. Eli, groping -unavailingly upon the ground, drew her aside for a whispered word. “No -pearl can I find and she had not strength to throw it far. Thinkest -thou she had the jewel but in a dream? Thinkest thou that sorrow hath -affected her mind?” - -The girl drew a breath of relief and letting fall the brush pretended -to assist him in the search. “Yea,” she assented with apparent -reluctance, “surely it is as thou sayest, and she but dreamed. As if -she would cast away a valuable pearl! Nay, but thou hast spoken the -truth,” and sighing heavily she passed into the house. - - * * * * * - -Adah, wife of Naaman, was slightly indisposed. Restlessly she tossed -on her silken pillow, wooing in vain the sleep which came fitfully and -with disturbing dreams. Her attendant had departed on some errand when -through the open door there stole a small shadow. Softly it moved about -the room for a few moments, touching this and changing that, then it -came and stood over the fair form of the mistress of this magnificent -home. It stooped, straightened up as if considering, then bent hastily -and kissed gently each eyelid. The eyes flew open in bewilderment and -at the same moment a delighted little voice exclaimed: - -“I knew it would. It never faileth. I have been looking at thee for a -long time through the open door and thou wert so restless I thought -it better to wake thee up entirely while I give thee a fresh, cool -pillow,” suiting the action to the word, “then will I kiss each eyelid -again and thou wilt go straight to sleep. Dost thou notice how I have -propped these other pillows to shut out the light, and drawn the -curtains so they will sway with the breeze and make thee think thou art -breathing the sweet air of the courtyard? There, I have smoothed thy -robes and thou wilt be much more comfortable. Now, a kiss here--and one -on this eye--nay, open them not; thou must not get too wide awake, for -I have not time to sing thee to sleep to-day. There--sh--sh!” - -The object of these unexpected attentions drew a satisfied sigh. It was -pleasant to be put so entirely at ease without having to think about -it at all. The others fussed so and it grew monotonous to be giving -directions continually. She had never been taken possession of in just -this way before. Everybody else--even Milcah--was so irritatingly -anxious to be dignified and proper. There was nothing disrespectful in -these quiet tones. It merely showed sense. A moment later there floated -through her drowsy consciousness the startling intelligence that this -must be the little maid of Israel whom she had so dreaded until -“trained.” Taking care not to open the eyes so surprisingly closed, -the lady murmured a command to stay right there lest she should want -something farther. - -“I should like to,” Miriam answered serenely, “but thou hast everything -thou wilt need for quite awhile because thou wilt be asleep. I have -to take my timbrel now and sing to Milcah’s mother. She is much, much -older than thou and needeth me much, much more, but I will come again -to see thee when I can spare the time,” with which cheerful assurance -Miriam betook herself off with the gladness of being at last wanted. - -Her newest acquaintance, so unceremoniously disobeyed for the sake of -duty, lay there smiling and then--to her own amazement as she thought -about it afterward--actually went to sleep as she was bidden and awoke -refreshed, as the little maid had said. She awoke too with a delightful -sensation of anticipation, wondering how and when this astonishing -child would keep her promise of another visit. Nay, she would not send -for her lest it mar the charming spontaneity of the occasion and, had -Miriam but known of this, she might also have known that Adah was not -accustomed to looking forward with pleasure. To her, life had become a -weary round of sameness with dread calamity as its certain goal. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -CONFESSION - - -Somewhere out on the Syrian hills a shepherd was engaged in a most -interesting occupation. At the door of the sheepfold he was holding -a light rod, forked at one end, under which the flock passed as he -counted. It was always the last task of the evening. - -“Seventy-five, seventy-six, seventy-seven. So far nothing hath -disturbed thee through the day now gone. Seventy-eight, seventy-nine. -Nay, Master Bold, thou wilt wait thy turn. Eighty, eighty-one, -eighty-two. Come, thou timid one, thy mother is already in and calleth -for thee. Eighty-three, eighty-four, eighty-five. Now, Bright Eyes, -what mischief art thou up to? This rod is a means of counting, but it -can be turned into a means of punishment if it be necessary to make -thee see thy duty. Eighty-six, eighty-seven. Nay, not so much crowding -there. Youth is eager, knowing not that time is long and weariness -certain. Eighty-eight, eighty-nine, ninety. What, my pearl, the heat of -the day hath been too much for thee? Wait thou.” - -The shepherd hastily dipped his fingers in the horn of olive oil that -hung at his belt and anointed its temples. - -“There, so shalt thou be refreshed, and here, do thou drink of this cup -of cold water which overfloweth for thee.” - -The needy one attended to, he went on with his count of the others. -“Ninety-one, ninety-two--” - -Two horsemen approached, the one behind leading a third animal which -was without a rider. At a sign, the one with the led horse halted while -the other dismounted and with some impatience waited until the long -enumeration was finished. Then he advanced toward the shepherd. - -“Peace be unto thee.” - -“And to thee,” the shepherd made answer. “Thou art in uniform. Hast -thou orders for thy servant? Quickly, thy name and errand. One of my -sheep hath strayed and I go to seek it, hastening lest the darkness -descend and I be unable to find it.” - -“Well thou knowest, Benjamin, that I am Isaac, servant to Naaman, -commander-in-chief of the armies of Syria, but I come on a private and -not on an official errand. Lead thou the way and I will go with thee.” - -There was an awkward silence broken at last by the soldier: “Thou art -looking somewhat haggard since I saw thee last, Benjamin.” - -“I have passed through much sorrow of spirit, Isaac.” - -“But surely thou hast no fault to find with thy treatment. Thou hast -a well-built sheepfold: the long, low buildings to shelter thy flock -in storms, the large space for them to roam in when thou dost not -bring them to pasture, and the whole surrounded by wide stone walls, -surmounted by sharp thorns to keep out wild beasts. Nor have we a hard -master to serve. Thy faithfulness and ability will be noted by those -who have charge of such matters for the king.” - -The shepherd’s tones were infinitely sad: “Could any reward compensate -my parents for the loss of their only son; for their loneliness and -grief and real need of me? Could any reward make up to my little sister -for the brother who should guard and guide her? Could any reward atone -to me for the loss of my well-beloved, my betrothed?” - -The light was already dim as they stumbled over the rocks and through -patches of woodland, the long briars catching at their garments and -tearing the flesh. They passed another sheepfold. Benjamin raised his -voice in a shout: “Hast thou found a sheep which is lost?” - -Clearly the answer came back: “Nay, we have none but our own.” - -Sighing, the shepherd went on, the soldier abreast of him. - -“I have come to redeem my pledge, Benjamin.” - -The other’s face was sadly accusing. “Here, on these lonely hills, with -only the fast-falling night for a witness, and not before the eyes of -men?” - -The soldier’s face flushed. “If thou meanest our last meeting on the -way hither, I had thought thou wouldst understand. It was through no -information furnished by me that thou wert taken, nor was it by my -band. Naaman is Captain of the Host. I have but a few men under me and -my authority is small. I could not help thee then. Besides, thou wert -in no personal danger, else I would have risked it. It was thy flock of -which Eleazer’s company was so proud. They took thee because the sheep -knew thy voice but a stranger would they not follow, fleeing from any -but thee.” - -A contemptuous smile played around Benjamin’s mouth. He unclasped from -his wrist a broad gold bracelet and handed it to Isaac. - -“I thought thou wouldst be apt to consider this too costly a token,” he -said. - -A pained look crossed Isaac’s face. “I redeem it with what hath cost me -more: the delight of a woman’s presence and a woman’s sweetness and a -woman’s wonderful devotion which otherwise might have been mine. I have -come to invite thee to a wedding--thine own wedding--with Rachel of -Hannathon in the Land of Israel.” - -The shepherd was plainly startled. “Thou hast come to ask me to marry -my betrothed? I do not understand.” - -“She was captured about the time thou wert by one of the men in my -company,” the soldier explained. “I am glad to say I was able to save -her from familiarity at the hands of the soldiers--” - -“For which I am grateful to thee, Isaac.” - -“But three days’ journey from Damascus she left us with another -captive, a young lad called ‘Nathan,’ being sore afraid. By accident I -discovered her hiding place, but knew not it was the maid of my dreams, -she being enveloped in her wedding veil, as I afterward learned it was. -Nevertheless, I discovered her identity in time to soften the hardships -of the journey with food and water, together with the leopard’s skin -thou gavest me, her clothing being insufficient protection against -the cold winds which swept down from the Lebanons. I was quite sure -the two would come to Damascus, so I had the gate watched and word -brought to me of her arrival. She appeared to be alone, the boy having -disappeared, and though she had wandered far out of her way in the -city, I found her after some search and conducted her, as she desired, -to the street of the merchants of Israel. Her kinsman, however, whom we -sought, had died a month before.” - -Benjamin’s voice betrayed uneasiness. “And then?” - -“And then I found lodging for her in the house of one, Amos the -perfumer, also of Israel, since which time she hath been there cared -for, provided with necessary raiment and awaiteth thee, desiring that -thou come quickly.” - -Benjamin’s attitude became questioning. “It is now the height of the -rainy season. All this occurred months ago and I hear but now.” - -“Thou art hearing as soon as it was convenient for me to bring thee -word. Am I in a place of authority? Do I not come and go at another’s -bidding? Besides, it was but little more than a week ago that she told -me of the whispered conversations which always break off when she -appeareth, the averted glances and, almost worse than this, the pitying -kindness of her friends--” - -The shepherd’s face grew white and stern. “Then didst thou think -it was time to send for the one who would not fail her? I suppose, -Isaac, _thou_ hast not thought of marrying the maiden--considering the -circumstances.” - -The soldier sought to restrain his anger. “I did,” he answered, “or at -least I would have had it not been for another maiden to whom I would -have found it hard to explain matters. This other--” - -“I see it all,” the shepherd responded, bitterly. “Having a little -authority and noting that the maid was fair, she was thy lawful prey, -whereas the maiden who is surrounded by care and affection thou canst -not bear to offend. My little Rachel, pure as the snows of Hermon, and -entirely at thy mercy--” - -He raised his stout staff. The soldier threw up one arm to ward off the -blow but he did not draw the short sword which hung at his girdle. - -“Thou dost not let me make myself clear,” he said, gently, “but thou -shalt know for thyself. And another sorrow I have unwittingly brought -thee. At the same time that Rachel was taken by my band, Miriam was -also captured, although I knew not she was thy sister.” - -Benjamin lowered his staff, grief succeeding indignation. “And what of -her? Tell me.” - -“I have myself seen to her welfare, and my errand here is to tell thee -of both maidens and to conduct thee to them that thou mayest assure -thyself--” - -Benjamin assented briefly. At that moment his keen ear detected the -far-off bleat of a sheep. Guided by its cries, he made his way to it -as quickly as possible and with his light, hooked rod disentangled -its wool from the cruel thorns which caught and tore his own flesh -meanwhile. Catching the forelegs together with one hand and the -hindlegs with the other, he swung the exhausted animal over his -shoulder and began retracing his steps. Isaac followed, a dozen times -essaying to reopen the subject upon which he had come prepared to -speak, and a dozen times being repulsed by the gloom in which Benjamin -seemed wrapped. - -They passed the sheepfold where inquiry had earlier been made and the -shepherd raised his voice in a shout, “Rejoice with me, for I have -found my sheep that was lost.” - -Arriving at last whence they had started and the weary and injured -animal tenderly cared for, Isaac and Benjamin took opposite sides of -the fire, each preferring the company of his own bitter thoughts to -conversation. A recumbent shepherd kept watch before the door of the -fold. Two more slept. To use the tongue of Israel would have been -to insure privacy to the message, but each waited for the other. If -Isaac were sufficiently penitent, thought Benjamin, he would talk even -though the words came falteringly. As it was, his errand was one of -expediency and no real satisfaction would be gained by forcing from his -lips details of the confession he should make voluntarily. If, thought -Isaac, Benjamin wished to ask questions, he would answer them fully, -but why give unasked information which was distorted and misunderstood -as soon as uttered? And so, each nursing a sense of injury, the long -night passed. - -A couple of days were spent in making preparation for the care of the -flock while Benjamin should be away, and the fourth they started for -Damascus. At dawn a gentle rain was falling. The substitute shepherd -was delighted. Since the flock must remain within shelter of the -fold while the storm lasted, it were that much easier cared for. To -the three whose horses stood waiting, the rain mattered not at all. -Benjamin moved here and there, giving directions and making sure that -all was well before his departure. Once he paused and took a sick lamb -in his arms: - -“I go to bring another,” he whispered, tenderly, “bruised and wounded -as thou art, but her spirit, like thine, shall be healed with the oil -of loving-kindness.” - -An hour later he was riding across the rain-soaked plain, the other -horseman a little in advance, the servant in the rear. The two -foremost were quite unchanged, the one lost in the depths of profound -irritation, the other in melancholy, and neither speaking save when -their common errand made it necessary. - - * * * * * - -Miriam took an early opportunity of again calling upon the mistress -of the household. She felt no sense of obligation beyond her promise. -The visit was entirely a friendly one and was so understood. On the -threshold she paused with a bright smile of greeting, which was -cordially returned. Entering, she found a cushion of the right height, -threw it upon the floor and sat down, resting her arms confidingly on -Adah’s lap, studying the face above hers. - -“I have noticed how sad thou art, and I think it is the way thy house -is built. Thou wouldst not be nearly so lonely if thy dwelling were -like ours in Israel: all in one big room with the animals in one part -and the family on a raised floor in the other. Of course thou hast too -large a household for that, but thou dost not know how comforting it -is to hear the animals stamping around in their stalls at night and on -rainy days. Here it is so quiet I cannot sleep sometimes.” - -Adah frequently did not sleep, but she had never attributed it to the -silence. - -“If thou couldst but rise early in the morning,” Miriam continued with -animation, “and grind the wheat--thou art so rich thou couldst have -an ass or a camel harnessed to the mill to do the hardest part of the -work--and if thou couldst make up the dough quickly and bake it in -cakes for thy family’s breakfast, it would give thee so much delight. -Hast thou never tried it?” - -“Not the pleasure of toil, Miriam, but I have sometimes wondered--” - -“And if thou wouldst pretend to find fault because thy bread is eaten -so fast and thy husband would pretend to find fault because thou hast -not baked enough, and he would caress thee and say thou canst bake the -best bread to be found in any house in Israel--I mean in Syria--it -would be such joy to thee. Hast thou never known this?” - -“Not the joy of service, Miriam, but I have often thought--” - -“And if thou didst see to the clothing of thy entire household instead -of having Milcah do it for thee; I mean the spinning and weaving and -washing, and couldst look after the conduct and instruction of thy men -servants and thy maid servants. If, while thy husband sits in the gate, -judging the cause of the people, thou wert also considering the needs -of the poor, thou wouldst never have time to be sad. Hast thou never -done these things?” - -“Not enough to give me the happiness of being necessary, but I have -sometimes envied those who were.” - -Adah recollected herself with a start. To be making such undignified -admissions! Her countenance settled back into its old lines of haughty -indifference and Miriam was quick to notice the change. She took the -older face tenderly between her hands and kissed it, quite unaware that -she was not expected to take such liberties. Her voice was full of pity: - -“Thou dost look so sorrowful. I never knew before how much thou dost -need me. I can teach thee so much. I will show thee how to be happy.” - -Adah thought it extremely doubtful, but it would have been cruel to -discourage such cheerful confidence. Besides, she saw a loophole of -escape from an embarrassing conversation: “Thou hast no time to give to -me.” - -Miriam pondered. “I will take time,” she said with decision, “just as -much as I can spare from Isaac and Milcah and their mother.” - -She ran to the door and looked appraisingly at the position of the sun -on the courtyard foliage. - -“I must go now,” she said; “it groweth late. See how the shadows -lengthen?” - -Adah, left alone, smiled, then she sighed. Alas, that the sorrow of the -House of Naaman should be past the little maid’s generously offered -assistance, past the ability of the wisest men and the greatest gods of -Syria! - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -UNDERSTANDING - - -Out on the Syrian plains three horsemen plodded steadily through the -storm. At last they halted, shivering, in the shelter of a great rock. -One went about the necessary preparations for a slender meal, another -faced his companion contritely. - -“I am so sorry, Benjamin. I--” - -“We usually are, Isaac, when we see what sorrow is wrought by our -wrongdoing.” - -“I have been trying to put myself in thy place, Benjamin. I can realize -something of what thou hast suffered. I admit that it is all my fault -that--” - -“I have never thought of blaming anyone else, Isaac.” - -“I wish,” impatiently, “that thou wouldst let me explain. I was greatly -surprised that--” - -“I am sure of it, Isaac. We go along doing what we want instead of what -we ought, and we are always surprised when God’s ‘Thou shalt not’ makes -us stop and think.” - -The other made a gesture of despair. “Have I lost thy confidence -entirely? If thou wouldst but let _me_ tell the story instead of -telling it thyself in thine own way, thou wouldst be better prepared--” - -“Rachel and I have been companions since babyhood, Isaac, and never -have I been unprepared for her lightest wish, nor am I unprepared now -for her dire distress. As for my sister, it will go hard with thee if -thou hast allowed ill to come to a child.” He closed his lips in a way -that revealed both strength and determination. - -The soldier faced him without flinching. “We near Damascus,” he said, -coldly, “and it is necessary that we speak of certain arrangements. -We wish to observe the usual customs, but our situation is peculiar: -that which is usually furnished by the family of the maiden we must -ourselves provide. Rachel will need festive robes and a veil and a -girdle and a chaplet for her flowing hair, not mentioning the perfumery -and the jewels which every bride desireth, and saying nothing, also, of -_thy_ festive robe and nuptial wreath and the myrrh and frankincense -for thine adorning.” - -The shepherd buried his face in his hands. “Not once have I thought of -these things, but only of her need of me. And I a captive, without even -a trinket I can sell, and my flock the stolen property of an enemy!” - -Isaac tapped the bracelet so lately transferred from the other’s arm to -his own. “I anticipated this when I asked for my pledge. When sold, as -I intend it shall be, it will provide all and more, but I am curious -to know why thou wert allowed to keep the token. Eleazer’s band which -took thee is not noted for its gentleness nor its generosity.” - -“I know not the reason, Isaac, save that I fought for it once and twice -and thrice and was not overcome.” - -His tone was abstracted; now it became passionate: “But thinkest thou I -would take so much from thee--from _thee_?” - -Isaac spoke soothingly: “Peradventure not for my sake, Benjamin, but -for Rachel--whom we both love!” - -The shepherd looked up quickly. “Love?” he queried, his mood changing -to contempt. “But the other maiden more.” - -Isaac laughed. “The other maiden--” All at once he became serious. -“Thou wilt understand when I tell thee--” but a glance at his -companion’s forbidding countenance caused him to shut his lips in a -grimness which was not lost in their short resting time, nor in the -several miles which they traveled, nor even in Damascus itself. Only -once was there speech between them and that was as they entered the -city gates. - -It was Benjamin who broke the silence. “Thou hast told me of Rachel, -but not of my sister. Take me, therefore, first to Miriam that I may -know for myself how she fareth.” - -Isaac bent his head stiffly. “It is well,” he said, and led the way to -the largest and most magnificent dwelling the shepherd had ever beheld. - - * * * * * - -To her mistress, Miriam spoke Syrian as far as possible; to Milcah, -either Syrian or the speech of Israel, more often a mixture of the -two, but to Milcah’s mother it was joy unspeakable to use only her -native tongue. Unfortunately, this pleasure was not to last. The -feeble strength waned fast, and one morning Miriam ran swiftly to -Milcah, imploring her to hasten to the invalid. She herself sped to the -gatekeeper. - -“Do thou send to the barracks and there leave word that Isaac come home -as soon as he arriveth in Damascus. His mother--” - -For reply the gatekeeper pointed to the street. In company with two -others he was just dismounting. The gate was opened for them and a -breathless little figure, tense with excitement, rushed into his arms, -unmindful of his companions. - -He bent his head over hers for a moment, listening to her broken words, -then, with a courteous explanation to the stranger, he hurried down -the courtyard and turned into that in which his mother’s room was -located. Miriam started to follow, her mind intent upon this new grief, -but a hand touched her on the shoulder and she looked into the brown, -questioning face of her brother. - -The warmth of her welcome left him no room for jealousy of Isaac. -Both faces beamed as genially as the sun, which had finally succeeded -in dispersing the clouds and drying up the rain drops. She guided her -visitor to the spot that she and Isaac liked, the seat under the damson -tree near the fountain. He gazed in wonder at his surroundings, at the -richness and beauty everywhere, marveling that she seemed so much at -ease amid all this magnificence. It was so different from what he had -expected to find, nor could he understand the greeting he had just -witnessed between herself and Isaac. - -“Art thou not afraid of the man who took thee captive?” he asked. - -Radiant with the happiness of her brother’s coming and clinging to him -as if he were a pleasant dream which might be lost, she answered quite -serenely: “Afraid of Isaac? Nay, thou canst not fear one who loveth -someone thou dost love.” - -He thought she referred to Rachel and it was like the thrust of a knife. - -“Ever conscious is he, Benjamin, of the debt he oweth thee. He hath -told me.” - -The shepherd was bitterly incredulous. - -“Before thou seest Rachel,” she went on, “I must tell thee something -she knoweth not I have learned.” - -A stern look crept into Benjamin’s face. - -“Rachel liketh Isaac very much indeed--” - -The shepherd paled. This possibility had not occurred to him. - -“But I think Isaac liketh her not at all, else he would have visited -her.” - -Benjamin uttered an exclamation, but she was too full of the importance -of her discovery to pay attention. She continued impressively, looking -around to make sure she was not overheard: - -“Not since he found her, cold and tired and hungry, just outside this -wall one daybreak and conducted her to the street of the merchants of -Israel, where Amos and Rebekah took pity upon her distress, never once -did she see him until the morning. I went with Milcah and we found him -talking to her on the footway. He had stopped just a moment to tell her -that he and his servant were starting to bring thee. I think he would -have done nothing for her at all, not even on the way hither, if she -had not been thy betrothed. He would not even promise to help her when -I first asked. Wouldst thou not have supposed he would consider her as -sweet and beautiful as thou dost and I?” - -The shepherd was too bewildered to reply at once. “Art thou very sure -of what thou sayest?” he finally stammered, an odd excitement in his -manner. “Thy words sound strange to mine ears. I would hear all thou -knowest,” and Miriam was very obliging. - -Beginning with the last time he had visited their home in Israel -(which had been a few days before their parents went to the feast at -Jerusalem; when he and Rachel had come to a full understanding), she -told him all that had befallen her and what she knew concerning Rachel. -He heard with varying emotions, and all too soon Isaac stood before -them. On his face was the dignity of sorrow. The gladness died out -of Miriam’s countenance; his grief was hers. He pressed the hand she -slipped into his and addressed Benjamin. - -“My mother--” he began and his voice broke. In a moment he went on: “My -servant will conduct thee to Rachel and attend upon thee. After the -custom of our people I must remain in seclusion until after our period -of mourning hath ended. Nevertheless, the House of Naaman is thine -abode as long as thou art in Damascus and whenever thou comest hither. -My home is thine. And this I give into thy keeping for the purpose of -which we spoke. I will instruct my servant regarding its disposal.” - -He unclasped the bracelet from his arm and for the second time gave -it to the shepherd, but his present manner bore no resemblance to the -first. Something of the difference occurred to Benjamin. He called -after the retreating figure. He ran and placed himself before Isaac, -bowing low before him. - -“Thy servant hath misjudged thee. Forgive, I pray thee. What am I that -thou shouldst show such kindness unto me?” - -The shepherd’s voice faltered before the other’s coldly courteous -manner. He went on almost timidly: “My sister hath explained much that -I could not understand hitherto. Surprise and perplexity hath gone and -in their stead hath come shame. I would that thou shouldst overlook--” - -The cold steel of Isaac’s eye might have been the cold steel of a -weapon piercing Benjamin’s heart, the effect being much the same. - -“Thou didst once save my life, which is precious unto me, and I have -given thee that which is dearer than thy life, thy betrothed. The debt -hath been mutually repaid. Henceforth we owe each other nothing.” - -Tears sprang to the shepherd’s eyes. “Naught save remembrance and good -will. I would that we might both remember this obligation.” - -There was no answer unless Isaac’s silence and his averted head might -be construed in the negative. - -Benjamin tried again. “As thou didst once admit thy guilt to me, so do -I now acknowledge to thee my fault and plead my penitence.” - -“It is too late, Benjamin. Thou hast refused to listen to the -confession I sought thee voluntarily to make. Thou hast assailed my -motives with insult. Thou hast outraged every feeling of affection I -ever had for thee. For the sake of all that is past we must not allow -ourselves to become enemies, but friends we can never be again.” - -The shepherd persevered although seeming to find speech difficult: “We -are both wrong, Isaac. Should we permit the winds of trouble to dry -up the fountain of loving-kindness and to scatter abroad the waters -of bitterness? Captivity filleth my mind with suspicion. Resentment -causeth thee to hate. Is it right?” - -Isaac stood immovable, without speaking. Miriam, where they had left -her, ceased her weeping and running to where the two stood slipped a -hand in each of theirs. - -“I shall be so lonely now that Isaac’s mother hath gone. Thou wilt stay -in Damascus as long as thou canst, wilt thou not, Benjamin?” - -He sought to comfort her, yet he could not leave his duties longer than -was necessary. He would go to Rachel now, the arrangements would be -made for their marriage according to the customs of Israel, and after -the formal betrothal feast he would hurry back to his flock because it -was with an hireling who cared not for the sheep. When the rainy season -ended he would return to Damascus for his bride and take her to the -home he would prepare meanwhile. The present arrangements would consume -but a few days. “But when I am no longer here I shall think of thee as -still being brave, shall I not, Miriam?” - -“Yea,” she said, tremulously. “Thou wilt have sad enough meditations, -longing for Rachel and thinking of our home in Israel and of father and -mother.” There was a long pause. “But thou must not grieve over me. At -first I thought I should die here, until I knew that somebody loved -me. Now Milcah doth a little, and I think my mistress will, but I have -never had to wonder about Isaac. He always hath. He will watch over me -as thou wouldst.” - -She leaned confidingly against the soldier and he slipped his arm -around her: “The heart of my little maid can safely trust in me,” he -assured her. Then, to Benjamin: “Behold, the other maid of whom we -spoke.” - -Miriam looked up wonderingly, not understanding Benjamin’s -embarrassment nor Isaac’s defiance, but neither troubled her. She -smiled upon them impartially. “And what hath made it easy for me to -love Isaac,” she went on, “is because he loveth thee so much, Benjamin. -It hath made me so happy. Else I could not bear things even now.” - -She was caressing their two hands, holding them to her cheeks and -patting them; thus she failed to see that each young man avoided the -other’s eye. - -“I love thee both so very much,” she confided. - -They each smiled down upon her indulgently, and somehow their eyes -met--with the smile still in them, and this time they did not turn -away. Oddly enough the coldness, the constraint faded before that look -as snow disappears before the genial warmth of the sun. They parted in -a manner quite satisfactory to the little maid, who beamed upon them -both. Suspicion and resentment had fled before the affectionate trust -of a child! - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -CHANGES - - -The death of Milcah’s mother made changes in the House of Naaman. Adah, -its mistress, was inconsolable, not with grief but with vexation. - -“So Milcah will sit on the floor for a whole week and mourn! Of course -I wish her to treat her mother’s memory with respect. I am myself -willing to pay for the mourning men and mourning women. I will provide -the spices and linen in which the body is to be wrapped. I will even -have it laid in the rocky tomb her people prefer, but I cannot go -without bathing and dressing for a week. Who will see to my raiment and -my perfumes?” - -To Miriam, who had brought the message, this was a very simple matter. -“Thou hast so many servants,” she began, but her mistress interrupted -irritably: - -“Thinkest thou Milcah would instruct any who might supplant her? Nay, -for jealous is she and sour of disposition, hence doth she keep both my -maidens and me dependent upon her.” - -Miriam was genuinely distressed. “Milcah is not young and much pain -doth she suffer at times, for she hath told me. Oft hath she waited -upon thee when naught but determination urged her tired footsteps. -Many times have I wondered what will become of her when she is unable -to work.” - -“She will be taken care of, as was her mother, and in place of a -daughter _thou_ shalt attend upon her.” - -The little maid clasped her hands. “Then will I be able to show how I -love her. Thinkest thou she will let me make her hair look prettier? -When Rachel, the maiden to whom my brother Benjamin is betrothed, was -sick many weeks I waited upon her continually.” - -Adah surveyed the small figure doubtfully. “Thinkest thou the duties of -the bath-chamber would be too much for thee with older maids to help?” - -Miriam thought not, and with enthusiasm began a week which ended all -too quickly, for Milcah resumed her old duties when the period of -mourning was past. With fine delicacy the little maid absented herself -entirely from the apartments of her mistress, but when three days had -elapsed she was sent for. - -Adah surveyed her with a half displeasure. “Why dost thou not -come without being commanded? Knowest thou not that I have found -thee teachable and quick and have determined to make thee one of -my handmaidens? Already have I talked with Milcah, and she is not -displeased, nor will she keep from thee knowledge that will be of use -when thou art older. Hear thou? She calleth thee. Thou mayest go.” - -The older woman beamed upon her. “I see by thy face thou hast heard. -Young art thou to find such favor in the sight of thy mistress, and -much will I have to teach thee, but that thou shouldst be chosen for -such honor doeth credit to my instruction.” - -Thus did it come about that Miriam became necessary to the House of -Naaman, and in gladness of heart she began that very day to fill the -place she had won for herself. - - * * * * * - -Far away the sun had begun to shine also for another heart. A month -after the Syrian raid Sarah was still upon her bed, a little paler, a -little weaker every day. Judith had been her faithful attendant, and -so it happened that when Abner came, as he had promised, to ask the -girl at the hands of her kinswoman, there had been no opposition. The -betrothal “feast” had been held minus the usual festivity, the pall of -melancholy having settled upon the tiny “city” of Hannathon. Also, the -principals to this strange alliance were not popular. Lastly, there was -nothing to feast upon, the daily rations, doled out by Abner, being -barely sufficient to keep the people alive. - -A few weeks later, as was the custom, Judith went to the home of -her husband, whither she would have removed Sarah but for vigorous -objection. - -“If they should return and find the dwelling closed--” said the woman. -“Nay, but here must I remain,” and no argument availed to change her -decision. - -Thus it had come about that Eli had gone to dwell with Sarah in -place of the son and daughter she had lost, and Abner, upon Judith’s -insistence, sent a maid servant to care for her in Judith’s stead. -Eli was Sarah’s one stay and comfort. He treated her precisely as he -would his own mother, sustaining her feeble strength largely by his own -cheery courage and unfailing hopefulness. Under his tender ministry she -had begun to grow stronger. The time had come when she no longer kept -to her bed. - -“I must live to welcome them when they come back,” she told him, and he -turned his head to hide a tear of pity. - -Never did she tire of planning for the journey he should some time -take to ransom the captives, although both clearly apprehended the -difficulties first to be overcome. “Yet will we trust in Jehovah,” he -assured her, confidently, “and he shall bring it to pass.” - -The first obstacle was removed when Abner, returning from a short -pilgrimage with seed for sowing his fields, agreed with Eli that the -latter should work on his land for wages, the same to be collected at -harvest time. The second obstacle yielded when Nathan, ragged and weary -but rejoicing, arrived in Hannathon. Finding that his mother’s home -was closed, he had come at once to Sarah’s, and however doubtful his -tidings it had been eagerly received: Rachel had reached Damascus. At -this very moment she was doubtless enjoying the peace and plenty of her -kinsman’s abode. Miriam had been well treated on the journey and had -borne up bravely. Of Benjamin he knew nothing at all and the mother -wept afresh. - -To Eli the important thing, next after the safety of his brother, -was that he now knew the name of the soldier in charge of the party. -Isaac, once found, could tell him the whereabouts of the captives. -But surprise was not confined to the dwelling of Sarah nor yet to the -abode of Rachel’s parents. It was also present in the House of Abner. -The master had brought the mistress a most unexpected gift: a pearl of -great price which he had not sold for seed, as she had supposed. - -“The grapes and olives be surety for that wherewith I am to sow, and -because thou hast been prudent and far-seeing I return unto thee the -jewel given thee by thy father. Behold, thou hast what is thine own, -yet none but thou and I shall know, lest it be stolen from thee.” - -Judith, receiving the gift with smiling thanks, frowned when Abner had -departed. Throwing the pearl upon the floor she stamped her foot: “Thus -hath our deeds power to follow and torment us! Thou,” addressing the -jewel, “hast served thy purpose. Why comest thou back to me like a -spirit from the sepulcher to remind and to mock, yea to be ever unto me -like a live coal in my bosom?” - - * * * * * - -It had been late autumn when Miriam came to Syria; but winter rains -were now over and Damascus rejoiced in an absence of dampness and -chill, nor had the extreme heat come on with its irritating dust. The -charm of one day had not faded when another began, but the nameless -gloom which always hovered over the House of Naaman had not lifted, and -Miriam pondered much. - -All this time she had never seen the master of the house, but, running -across the courtyard one morning, she met him face to face and bowed -low. She knew him by his splendid dress, his air of authority, the -deference paid him by the numerous servants moving here and there. When -he had passed she staggered back against the wall, faint with horror, -vainly seeking to erase from memory what she had witnessed. Now she -knew why he had not braved the inclemency of the weather heretofore. It -was leprosy! - -Her errand forgotten, the little maid went directly to her mistress, -out of breath with haste. Impulsively she clasped between her own the -hand she had thought so white and idle. - -“Not until this moment, my mistress, did I know that thou art grieved. -I thought thou wert lonely in this big house, but I have beheld the -reason for thy sorrow. Oh, my mistress, would God that my lord were -with the prophet that is in Samaria, for he would recover him of his -leprosy!” - -Adah, wife of Naaman, looked down upon the flushed and eager figure -kneeling beside her and gently drew away her hand. She was not -insensible of the kindness intended, but it was so futile. - -In vain Miriam told her of the miracle which had saved Hannah’s sons -from bondage and of many another wrought by the Man of God who dwelt -in Israel, but her words fell upon an unbelieving heart. Wonderful was -it, thought Adah, to have the unquestioning belief of youth before -experience disillusions, yet how absurd to suppose that what Rimmon -and Baal and Chemosh and a host of other gods could not do, even -though Naaman had offered rich gifts, could be accomplished by this -almost unheard of Jehovah! Nay, it were impossible, and lest fruitless -expectation be aroused and a fresh disappointment experienced, she -would say nothing to her husband of this well-meant but wholly -impossible suggestion. - -It was, however, to reach Naaman’s ears a few days later and in another -manner. Miriam spoke to Isaac about the matter and urged it with -vehemence. He could not resist her pleading, but he was reluctant, -doubtful. - -“Yea, I will tell him all thou sayest, but he hath tried so many things -so many times I fear he will not heed.” - -Isaac was, however, mistaken. Naaman, commander-in-chief of the -armies of Syria and popular hero, was accustomed to solicitude. To -him it seemed neither unusual nor audacious that a small maid servant -should have suggested a means of relief from the awful malady which -was slowly sapping his strength. He paid it the compliment of a brief -consideration, wholly untouched by the hopelessness of his wife or -the hesitancy of his favorite man servant, with both of whom he spoke -concerning it. - -Small matter that this Jehovah whom she named was little known -and probably much less powerful than she believed. He had long -suspected--and who would not among so many gods?--that latent abilities -sometimes resided in the most unlikely. In favorable circumstances who -could tell? Nevertheless, it was a long journey to Israel and in his -condition a painful one. Besides, there were other plans, suggested by -people for whose judgment he had the greatest respect, which could not -be discountenanced in favor of one so vague. Nay, he would try remedies -closer at hand. - -Isaac bowed and withdrew, dreading the message he must carry to Miriam. -He told her with compassion in his face, his voice, his manner, yet -with an attempt at cheerfulness which deceived neither of them. - -After a little she turned the head which had been averted. “Isaac, -believest thou?” - -He hesitated, then hit upon a happy expedient. “I believe _thee_, -little maid.” - -“Wouldst thou be pleased to do whatever thou canst for me, Isaac?” - -There was a flash of amusement on the young man’s countenance. “Knowest -thou, Miriam, thou wilt soon be a woman? Already thou art akin to her -thou shalt be.” He reached into the flowering tree above their heads -and broke off a small branch. “Even as this beauty is the delight of -our eyes, so art thou the delight of my heart. I swear it. See, I bind -these flowers upon that heart in token of my fealty. There shall they -remain, and though they wither, that for which they stand shall never -die. Needst thou other assurance?” - -But she was not laughing. “Believest thou in Jehovah, Isaac?” - -“Was I not taught so to believe, Miriam?” - -She sighed. “If Eli were only here to make thee understand! But when -thou believest Jehovah as thou believest me, then wilt thou speak to -thy master with boldness and insistence and he will hear.” - -Isaac patted her cheeks. “I am not sure, Miriam, but that I have known -Jehovah, at least as long as I have known thee. Be very courageous, -little maid. Thy plea shall yet save thy master,” but neither knew how -long a time must first elapse, nor that this same unselfish entreaty -would some day cause international complications. - - * * * * * - -In the meanwhile an event occurred which, at least temporarily, -banished the subject from Miriam’s mind. Rachel became legally -Benjamin’s wife. With all the lavish display and elaborate ceremony -of the East they were married. That is to say, the bridegroom walked -three times around the bride ere he lifted the detachable portion of -the heavy “veil” (really a thick garment enveloping her from head to -foot) and threw it over his shoulder as a token that he accepted the -government of this woman. In so doing the bride’s blushing face was -exposed to the fond gaze of her husband and the curious looks of their -assembled friends. - -Following this the guests broke into song, accompanying themselves with -timbrels, tabrets, cymbals, and the clapping of hands. There was no -priest, no religious observance, nothing but this public demonstration, -but it was considered sufficient and binding. The “sweet singer” now -came forward. As a matter of fact, he did not “sing” as we understand -the term, but recited in a monotonous, sing-song voice, composing his -production as he went along. First he recounted the charms of the -bride, calling attention to her physical beauty with such detail and -fulsome praise that Rachel, with burning cheeks, kept her eyes cast -down, ashamed to look anyone in the face. Then he told of her modesty, -her amiability, her industry, her frugality, and a host of other -virtues, real and imaginary. - -After the bride’s personality had been dissected, so to speak, the -sweet singer turned to the bridegroom and did the same for him, to -Benjamin’s great disgust and Isaac’s would-be-concealed amusement. The -principals having been disposed of, the indefatigable singer turned his -attention to each of the guests in turn, reciting their eminent history -and complimenting their virtues at as great length as the singer’s -knowledge extended or his imagination could, at a moment’s notice, -supply. For a whole week the celebration lasted. The street of the -merchants of Israel rejoiced loudly and there were flowing wines (at -Isaac’s expense) and much gluttony and revelry. - -The happy occasion ended with a night-time procession through the -streets of Damascus, accompanied once more by the usual music of -timbrels, tabrets, cymbals[2] and the clapping of hands; the usual -lamps and torches carried by each individual to light the dark -streets and add to the festive appearance; the usual waiting crowds -to shower congratulations and good wishes upon the happy couple. -The route should have been from the home of the bride to that of the -bridegroom. In this case it was from the abode of Amos, in a long and -circuitous march, back to it again. Miriam, sole representative of the -bridegroom’s family, at the head of the chosen maidens, escorted Rachel -to the bridal chamber. This happened to be the guest room on the roof, -which had been decked with flowers and rendered sweet with perfumes. - -By this act public notice was served that the bride had been -willingly received into the heart and home of her husband. Shortly -thereafter, the bridegroom was left at the door of the dwelling by -Isaac, heading the young men, and the public expressions of felicity -were now complete. The next day came the leave-taking. Rebekah and -her friend wept copiously. Milcah smiled upon Rachel with the most -perfect cordiality and approval. Rachel herself and Miriam were both -very misty-eyed as they bade each other farewell. Isaac and Benjamin -held a brief but earnest conversation in which all traces of former -misunderstandings seemed completely obliterated, and Amos lifted his -hands and voice in blessing as the newly married pair mounted patient -asses and started alone into the hills of Syria to set up that most -important of all sanctuaries, a home. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -DECISION - - -Two years went by and Miriam passed her twelfth birthday. Thereafter -she was no longer known as “the little maid” save as a title of -affection still retained by her mistress, Milcah, and Isaac, but -referred to in terms which meant “a young woman.” Insensibly her -manners grew quieter. No longer did she impulsively speak her mind to -Adah, nor bound unexpectedly into Milcah’s arms, nor indulge in the -old, familiar caresses where Isaac was concerned, although she could -not have explained these changes any more than she could have given a -reason for being taller and prettier, as she was told she was. Day by -day she was becoming gently reserved and charmingly shy and elusively -sweet as maidens are wont to be. - -Two more years went by and spring came again, the fourth since Miriam -had come to Syria and the third since she had first urged the visit of -her master to Israel. More and more had she become a necessary part of -the great household which had at first been indifferent. Her time was -now spent largely in the apartments of her mistress, or in attendance -upon that lady when she overlooked the affairs of the house or rode -in her chariot. A few times had she visited the House of Rimmon, -the sun-god of the Syrians, but because it distressed her this was -not always required. On several occasions had she been to the palace -and, with Milcah, quite often saw the tradespeople and helped make -selections of merchandise for her mistress. - -Yet these years, so eventful to Miriam, had brought little change -to the House of Naaman save, if possible, to deepen its gloom. Adah -had grown more languid, more petulant, more sad. The little maid had -not taught her how to be happy as she had so cheerfully promised. -Naaman, still demonstrating the futility of one remedy after another, -was plainly growing worse. Each winter the rains had washed out the -roads and made traveling as far as Israel an utter impossibility. Each -spring, when the dry season set in once more, Miriam had entreated -her mistress, appealed to Isaac and been disappointed afresh at the -rejection of her plan. Still she hoped and grew patient. - -Once more she pressed her query, tenderly, anxiously, without receiving -an answer. She knelt beside her mistress, despairing, insistent. -“Knowest thou not that my lord is no better and that Jehovah thinketh -upon thy sorrow? Oh that he would go to the prophet that is in Samaria!” - -Caressingly Adah took Miriam’s face between her hands and looked at her -through tear-blurred eyes. “All that I possess would I give, little -maid, for the confidence of youth, but even as the ruthless rains wash -away the footpaths, so doth Experience, in the autumn and winter of -life, steal away courage and joy. Yea, well I know that thy master’s -malady groweth worse, but what availeth a long and painful journey with -disappointment at its end?” - -Finding that neither argument nor persuasion availed, Miriam abandoned -the subject and waited until she should be able to see Isaac. The next -day she was fortunate in having speech with him just before he was -summoned to his master’s apartments. Briefly she outlined the last -conversation with her mistress and its hopelessness. - -“But because thou dwellest in his favor, Isaac, speak thou unto him -yet again that he perish not. Believest thou that Jehovah can do this? -Believest thou, Isaac?” - -“Yea,” looking into the serious depths of her dark eyes, “yea, Miriam, -I believe.” - -The time was auspicious. The burden of discomfort which Naaman had -borne so long had become irritating, loathsome, intolerable. If, by -enduring a little more, he could end it forever--yea, he would take the -journey to Israel. It was a forlorn hope, but he would risk it. - -Breathless with haste, Isaac paused a brief instant before Miriam. He -chose to be very mysterious. “What wouldst thou, little maid, if thou -couldst have thy choice?” - -Expectantly she searched his radiant countenance and caught the gayety -of his mood. “Not fruit nor flowers; not silken garments, nor fine -linen, nor choice food, for thus sumptuously do I fare every day. -Not even a new timbrel, for that thou didst give me when I was but a -_little_ maid is beautiful with ivory and mother-of-pearl. Naught have -I to wish for save that my master should seek Jehovah through the Man -of God who dwelleth at Samaria.” - -“Then thou hast thy desire. He goeth!” - -“When?” she asked, excitedly. - -The soldier shrugged his shoulders. “Our master’s impatience brooketh -no delay, as thou wilt know from knowing him, but he must first obtain -the king’s permission and the king’s credentials ere he dare venture -into another kingdom to ask a favor of a monarch with whose house Syria -hath been time and again at war.” - -Miriam was dismayed, incredulous. It had seemed such a simple matter to -her. - -Isaac smiled. “Thou dost not consider how great a man is our master. -Knowest thou not it is an affair of state?” - -He left her and she ran with swift footsteps to tell the glad news -to Milcah and then, with greater deliberation, to speak of it to her -mistress. - -Next morning the household was early astir. The general air of -excitement precluded sleep to even the most laggard, yet why this straw -of relief appeared more able to bear the weight of their longings than -previous efforts no one could have told, nor, indeed, did they pause -to ask. None, at least, save Miriam. At the top of the stone staircase -which led to the roof she unexpectedly met Isaac. He greeted her gayly. - -“All is well, little maid, so far. To-day I go to the palace to request -an audience for my master with the king.” - -“Thinkest thou, Isaac, that he will approve the journey?” - -“The thoughts of a king, Miriam, are past finding out, but we have a -good omen.” - -He pointed to the opal sky, beautiful in its sunrise tints. “Seest -thou? As the Syrians say, our all-conquering lord, the Sun, goeth forth -from his habitation with smiles to the arms of the virgin East who -haileth his approach with blushes.” - -Miriam pointed to the distant mountains. “Seest thou the good omen? No -haze shrouds them from our view, but even as they stand immovable and -protecting, so Jehovah is ever a shield round about his people. The -rosy sky, against which the mountains show dark and clear, reminds us -that our hope is in the Lord our God who only giveth us the victory.” - -The soldier stood abashed, but in his eyes there dawned a something -which was akin to reverence and more. The girl, catching the look quite -accidentally, flushed as prettily as the sky they had been watching -and fled instinctively, even as she wondered why she did these things. -Yet she did not seek explanations of anyone. - - * * * * * - -With armament resplendent and an obsequious group of -soldier-attendants, as befitted the importance of the mission, Isaac -was dispatched to the palace. Having passed the gatekeeper and been -conducted across two or three courtyards to the entrance of the king’s -residence proper, the guard suddenly stood at attention while Isaac -found himself in the presence of the chief officer of the palace. - -Each bowed to the ground, exclaiming, “Peace be unto thee.” Three times -this was repeated. - -Each then put his hand to his heart, which was meant to say, “My heart -meditates upon thee.” - -Each next put his hands to his lips as if to say, “My lips speak well -of thee.” - -Finally, each put his hand to his forehead, which conveyed the -flattering intelligence, “My intellect delights in thee.” - -Lastly they fell upon each other’s neck and embraced fervently. - -These civilities over, they stooped and rested in the comfortable -Oriental fashion while they held converse. My lord high officer -inquired for his visitor’s grandfather. Instead of replying truthfully -that he was long since dead, diplomacy required that Isaac relate a -tale of courage and honor, whether true or untrue, which he ascribed -to the _other’s_ grandfather. - -Well pleased with the compliment, my lord high officer inquired for -Isaac’s father, with the same result. Next, my lord high officer -inquired for Isaac’s master and attributed to him deeds of valor which -Isaac entirely disclaimed for Naaman, pronouncing blessings upon the -other’s master, the king. - -By degrees and after a considerable time had elapsed, the moment was -opportune for the delivery of Isaac’s message. He had come to request -an audience of King Ben-hadad for his master, Naaman. My lord high -officer was politely kind. He would see that the message was conveyed -to his master, the king, and in the course of a few days an answer -would be returned. Although his real errand was now completed, Isaac’s -manner was casual and betrayed no haste, after the approved style of -Eastern courtiers. For quite awhile longer they chatted with gravity -and pretended interest, then they rose, bidding each other farewell -with the same elaborate gestures which had marked their meeting. - -With a sigh of relief and a complacence born of duty well performed, -Isaac and his soldiers took their way homeward and the House of Naaman -began that waiting program which was to be its chief occupation for -some time to come and of which its master was to grow almost fatally -weary before it should be brought to a happy ending. In a few days, as -promised by my lord high officer, the watchman stationed upon Naaman’s -roof to note the approach of the king’s messenger sent the joyful cry -echoing through the courtyards: “Behold, he cometh.” - -Instantly the great house responded with a bustle of preparation and a -suspension of all unnecessary tasks, giving itself up to the delightful -thrill of expectancy. The crowd of mendicants, the halt and maimed and -blind, pensioners upon Naaman’s bounty, melted away from before his -gate--at the command of the gatekeeper, aided by a stout staff and one -or two men servants--like snow before the sun. The courtyards were -cleared of all save those whose privilege and duty it was to be there. -Isaac, not now in the dress of a soldier but in the soft, fine raiment -of a rich man, as befitted the master he represented, met the stranger -at the very gateway. - -By means of those elaborate bows which had characterized Isaac’s -previous visit to the palace, the messenger was finally drawn within -the greater privacy of one of the inner courts. This not only shut -them out from the gaze and hearing of the curious but conveyed the -complimentary impression that he was received into the bosom of the -family. His message was brief. On the morrow his master, the king, -would give audience to his well-beloved servant, Naaman, at the fourth -hour of the day. Yet, however concise the communication, Oriental -etiquette forbade its delivery in a hasty manner or without due -ceremony. A long time was it before Isaac, bidding farewell to this -important guest, was at liberty to pay a scarcely less ceremonious -visit to his anxious master and to stand at length, smiling, before -Miriam, that she might hear the joyful tidings. - -The next day, promptly at ten o’clock, Naaman and his imposing -bodyguard of soldiers appeared at the palace. A no less imposing -retinue of palace officials and servants, led by my lord high -officer, met him at the palace gate and with great apparent respect -conducted him to the throne room. Here he and his king exchanged -the same elaborate courtesies which had marked the meeting of their -representatives a few days before. Yet with a difference! The latter -had been coldly formal, meaninglessly polite. This was the greeting -of friends, of those whose regard for each other was built upon a -solid foundation of respect and affection, although there was not -the slightest trace of undue familiarity on the one hand nor lack of -dignity on the other. - -Salutations concluded, the king commanded all who attended him to -retire from the immediate vicinity. Naaman, following suit, gestured -to Isaac, and his bodyguard likewise withdrew to a distance. The two -highest dignitaries of Syria could now converse in such privacy that -their tones alone were audible to those who stood at either end of the -long throne room. Impressively yet briefly Naaman recited the facts: -it had become known to him, through a maid in his household, that -there dwelt in the city of Samaria, in the Land of Israel, a prophet of -Jehovah, the little-known God of the land. This seer, it appeared, was -a man mighty in word and deed, able, so the maiden stated, to heal even -the dread disease of leprosy. Now, therefore, if he had found favor in -the sight of his master, the king, he hoped it would please the king to -allow his servant to depart in peace upon this mission. - -Ben-hadad was gracious. The affliction of Naaman, the man whom -all Syria delighted to honor, was also his affliction. Any chance -of relief, however remote, must be seized with as little delay as -possible. If Jehovah, the God of the Israelites, acting through his -prophet, was thus powerful, to effect a cure would be but a small -matter and one to be quickly accomplished. He, the king of Syria, would -write a letter to the young king of Israel, son of their late enemy, -Ahab, which letter should be delivered in person by Naaman. The request -therein contained would of course be immediately granted. The affair -should take precedence of certain other state business so that, in a -few days, the letter should be written and dispatched by messenger to -the House of Naaman. - -Thus comforted and highly elated at the success of his mission, Naaman -and his attendants made the usual elaborate adieux and departed. -It was not that an interview between the king and his army’s -commander-in-chief was either unusual or infrequent, but this had been -fraught with national and international consequence, and ceremony was -necessary. Not often did one monarch ask a favor of another without -intending to reciprocate, but this visit of Naaman to Israel, with its -consequent exchange of diplomatic courtesies, meant a closer alliance -of the two nations; a declaration of friendship, as it were, which -would last as long as it served their purpose and which might not be a -bad thing in these days of Assyrian encroachments. - -Miriam, watching the approach of the party from her favorite spot on -the roof, observed that the leader lifted his shield of beaten brass -and pointed to the distant mountains. She understood. Isaac was telling -her that Jehovah, in whom she trusted, had brought it to pass: the -king’s answer was favorable, and breathlessly she ran to carry the -second message of hope to her mistress. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -CONSTERNATION - - -In that portion of the veranda where stood Isaac and Miriam, eagerly -discussing recent events, there was much passing to and fro of men -servants and maid servants, picking up crumbs of talk like hungry -birds at a feast. With an imperious gesture, borrowed from his master, -Isaac made known his displeasure. Instantly each individual had duties -elsewhere. - -Miriam laughed. “What a great man thou art becoming, Isaac!” - -“Nay,” he answered, “but if this mission of our master to Israel be -prospered, then must we flatter and defer to thee, for thy position in -the household will be enviable.” - -Immediately regretting the contamination of her mind with any taint of -worldly wisdom, he ignored her surprised exclamations and spoke of the -rich stores which were being gathered in preparation for the journey -to Israel, a thank-offering to the prophet should Naaman be healed. -Much gold and silver, not in coins--which came at a later period--but -in bulk, ready to be cut and weighed according to the amount required -when occasion arose for paying or giving, and, in addition, the famous -products of Damascus looms and other Eastern merchandise: silk that -would neither wrinkle nor cut; cotton and linen of exquisite weave, and -heavier fabrics, all made up into the much-prized “changes of raiment,” -which would last the fortunate possessor a lifetime and still not be -worn out.[3] - -Miriam asked a half-indignant question: “Thinkest thou the Man of -God will regard this? Nay, but only that our master may know Jehovah -liveth.” - -Isaac looked at her strangely. “It is customary, when asking a favor, -to take in thine hand a present, and I have never known a prophet -who would refuse it. Have we not tried many prophets and many gods? -Besides, is not our master very rich and Damascus the gateway between -Assyria on the east and Egypt on the west, a city great in commerce and -industry? Yea, these things are but right.” - - * * * * * - -It had been a late spring. That is to say, the dry season had been late -in arriving, and for diplomatic and business reasons Naaman’s journey -to Israel was not commenced until nearly midsummer, but the great day -came at last. Miriam, her cheeks glowing with excitement, watched it -from the latticed window where she could stand now on fewer cushions -than formerly. It was an imposing procession. Isaac, at the head, -looking very splendid, Miriam thought, waved her a farewell as they -went past the lattice. He could not see her, but he knew she was there. - -She gazed eagerly, noting every detail. After Isaac came his servant, -carrying a long pole on the end of which was a brazier of coals, the -smoke of which would be a cloud by day and a fire by night, thus -guiding the drivers behind no matter how far they straggled apart. A -bodyguard of horsemen entirely surrounded the chariot, in which was -Naaman, with one driver and one attendant, the latter supporting a -sort of awning on poles to protect his master from sun and wind as -he traveled. A second chariot followed in case of accident to the -first. At the rear of the bodyguard rode a man whom Miriam had long -ago learned to distrust, Lemuel by name. At a little distance followed -the camel train with its precious burden of merchandise and another -soldier-guard. Another space and then the asses, laden with food, -water, camping equipment, and the various necessities of such a lengthy -journey. Last of all came a few asses and camels led, these to be used -in case of emergency. A few more soldiers completed the cavalcade. - -It was impressive, picturesque, noisy, with gaudily dressed drivers, -the decorated animals with their tinkling bells, the cries in many -languages of those who urged them forward, to say nothing of the more -ordinary sight, the soldiers in dress-uniforms, dazzlingly bright, with -the sun reflected on metal helmets and shields and scalelike coats of -mail. No wonder Damascus paused in its business and pleasure to admire -and applaud as the party filed slowly and with dignity through its -streets and out of the southwestern gate. No wonder Miriam was excited, -entranced, delighted. In her wildest dreams she had not beheld it thus, -but after it had passed there came a feeling of desolation such as she -had not experienced since that first terrible night in Damascus. Almost -an hour later Milcah found her, huddled among the cushions, moaning and -weeping. - -“They have gone; gone to Israel; and I am left here!” - -Astonished but not unsympathetic, Milcah attempted comfort, but the -writhing, disheveled figure and the wild sobs frightened her. Running -excitedly to her mistress, she succeeded in startling that lady out -of her accustomed languor and a few moments later they both bent over -Miriam with deep concern. Adah gathered the girl in her arms. - -“Desirest thou to go to Israel, little maid? Thou dost, thou sayest? -Thou art grieving for thy father and mother and thy home there? Nay, do -not weep. Thou shalt go. Only be thou patient until we learn how it is -with thy master.” - -Gradually, under these assurances and Milcah’s ministrations, Miriam -became calmer. Wearied by her outburst and half ashamed, she was -persuaded to rest in a darkened room until she should feel quite -herself again. To her own surprise, she found she was strangely weak -and unnerved. For days she could not rise, and then she dragged about -the great house, pale and dispirited, until the excitement of watching -for the return of the party brought a little color to her cheeks and a -little hope to her heart. - -Meanwhile Naaman and his company proceeded on their long, long way in -the scorching heat. Unerringly Isaac led his party out from the cool -shade of the orchards surrounding the city of Damascus; by broad, -rocky terraces to the wind-swept Plain of the Hauran, toward Mount -Hermon’s rugged dominance in the south. Past wheat-fields and pasture -lands, a few insignificant water courses and occasional small groves of -trees. Over the plains they went, across the Jordan and up the broad -and fertile Vale of Jezreel, brown in the midsummer heat and drought. -A twist in the valley and they were in the basin in which Samaria -was situated. Up, up, three hundred feet or more to the very top of -the cone-shaped hill upon which sat the city itself, impregnable, -beautiful, commanding a wide view of the Valley of Jezreel at its feet -and the blue waters of the Great Sea (now called the Mediterranean) -only twenty-three miles distant. - -The approach of so large a procession could not remain unknown. Long, -long before it wound its slow way up the hill, among the gardens and -scattered houses of the suburbs, the watchman in the tower had noted -its strength and its probable importance and hastily communicated -this intelligence to the proper officials, who had, in turn, sent a -message to the palace. Long, long before it entered the square chamber -of masonry which in the Orient they call a gate, prepared to emerge -therefrom into the city through the opening in another wall, the elders -or judges sitting on the stone benches ranged along the two blank walls -were ready with questions. Was their errand one of peace? Who were they -and whence did they come? What was the purpose of this visit to their -city and whom sought they? - -Isaac’s duties multiplied. He was now not only guide but interpreter -and the trusted servant who should present his master’s all-important -plea to the city officials. More than this, he was the courteous -diplomat who must secure the favor and the good will of these officials -who would, at their discretion, give them safe conduct to the king. The -examination into their credentials was conducted with great solemnity -and consumed a vast deal of time, but with the happy result that the -procession of foreign guests was conducted with much ceremony through -the crooked streets of Samaria to the celebrated Ivory Palace of the -king; those streets so narrow that two camels could not go abreast and -leave room for foot passengers, so shaded from the heat of the sun by -the windowless buildings on either side that, had it been more unusual, -it would have been depressing. - -In the East there is courtesy but no haste. One wing of the palace, -with its own courts, was set aside for the use of the visitors, and -trusted servants and high officials busied themselves in making these -accommodations comfortable for those who honored the roof by their -presence. Isaac was granted a formal interview with the chief officer -of the palace, the occasion being much the same as in Syria, when he -had appeared to request audience for his master with King Ben-hadad. -Now as then an interval must elapse while the message was conveyed to -King Jehoram and he returned an answer, but in consideration of the -distinguished position which Naaman occupied in his own country and the -compliment which his visit implied, this was considerably hurried. - -The next day Isaac, chief servant of the embassy, received a call from -the chief officer of the palace, appointing the hour and day when -King Jehoram would receive in person the letter of King Ben-hadad -and the officer whom it introduced. Naaman, tired from the long and -exhausting journey, was glad to have a few hours of rest, but as the -hardened soldier recovered somewhat from his pain and fatigue, he grew -impatient for the interview. The hour came. Amid great splendor Naaman -was conducted into the presence of the young King Jehoram, the letter -was presented, courteous greetings and assurances of friendship were -exchanged, and then Naaman was escorted back to his apartments to await -the real answer to his plea; the favorable reply anticipated but not -yet given! Though compatible with Eastern custom, it was a situation -calculated to inspire distrust in the breast of the suffering Naaman -and uneasiness on the part of his servant, Isaac. - -In that portion of the palace they had just left the air was charged -with excitement. The king, surrounded by his counselors, old and young, -rent his garments with true Oriental display of grief and vexation. -What power had he to cure a man of leprosy? Was he a god to kill and -make alive? No reasonable human being would suppose he could do this -thing. Nay, it was merely a pretext for Syria to declare war against -Israel. Not content with petty raids on their fertile valleys almost -every year; not satisfied with carrying off their flocks, their grain, -their wine and their oil, and even a captive now and then; not content -that Jehoram’s father, Ahab, had spared Ben-hadad’s life when the -latter was at his mercy, and made a treaty of trade and peace when -he might have been less generous; not satisfied with this and all of -these, Ben-hadad now, without just cause, sought an open rupture. And -Israel--was Israel prepared to resist an invasion? Nay, but as the -ravenous dogs fell upon travelers in the night so would Syria fall upon -them and rend them in pieces! - -The counselors of the young king shook their heads and mingled their -tears with his, their hearts heavy with sorrow. If this thing came -upon them--and it had--they must meet it like men. What did prudence -dictate? It was a long conference, prudence seeming to dictate quite a -number of things. As a result, the king hastily sent from one end of -his kingdom to the other, taking account of his resources: the number -of his fighting men; his weapons of war; his food-supplies; his gold -and silver. His counselors met in secret session again and considered -Israel’s trade relations, her diplomatic friendships. Was she able, -alone, to meet the enemy? Would she have help? Upon what could she -depend when this unfavorable answer should be returned as soon, indeed, -it must be? - -Despite the urgency of the occasion, this census consumed some time -and was, alas, in no wise satisfactory. It was a fact, grave but -unmistakable, that Israel was not prepared to meet a foe of Syria’s -means, of Syria’s army, of Syria’s leadership! Israel never faced -a greater crisis. Her king was commanded to do the impossible or -else--there were no need to complete the sentence. The veriest child -could speak the answer and dread it, and King Jehoram lifted up his -voice and wept in the demonstrative Eastern fashion. Consternation, -though veiled, was not confined to the palace. The arrival of so large -a procession, its gorgeous display of wealth, the foreign garb of its -people and their probable errand could not fail to be a matter of -public interest and conjecture. The hopelessness of its mission could -not long be kept from the populace, nor fail to sound a note of dismay -to the thoughtful. - -Meanwhile, in the apartments paneled in ivory, among the simple but -costly furnishings, Naaman paced restlessly. Was this prophet of -Jehovah on a journey to some far country that he came not? Was there -any deception on the part of this young king that he failed to return -a favorable reply? Did he consider it a matter of so little importance -that he could safely procrastinate? Could there have been any mistake -in the information which had sent him hither? Down, far below, into the -Valley of Jezreel Naaman looked, but the yellow grain fields merely -nodded in the summer heat and refused to answer. Off to the blue strip -of the Great Sea he raised his eyes, but the flashing oars of the -Phœnician galleys rose and fell unheeding. Toward the hills he looked, -but from their bare, brown hulks no help arose and Hermon regarded him -coldly from its snow-crowned peak. Weary, puzzled and in pain, Naaman -strove, sighing, to wait yet another day while the little maid whose -cheerful assurances had been the cause of his visit, lay upon her bed, -in the grasp of a great longing, knowing not that her unselfish plea -had brought about international complications and deep consternation to -her beloved Land of Israel. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -HOPE - - -In a crooked and somewhat retired street of Samaria stood a house -which, next to the Ivory Palace of the king, was the most noted in -all Israel. On the outside there was nothing to denote any special -importance, nothing to particularly commend it to the attention of -the young man who walked along slowly, scanning each dwelling with -interest. It might have been the home of any well-to-do citizen. The -stranger paused doubtfully, asked a question of a passer-by, and then -approached the entrance gate, rapping loudly. - -One in the garb of a servant but with the air and manner of authority -responded to the summons. That is to say, although not opening the -portal he called through it to know who was there and what the errand. -These questions being answered satisfactorily, the stranger was allowed -to remain standing without until the servant within walked leisurely -across the courtyard and ascended a flight of stone steps in the corner -to the flat roof of the dwelling and so into the presence of an older -man, to whom he bowed low and who, in return, greeted him eagerly. - -“No message hath come to me from the king, Gehazi?” - -“None, my master.” - -“And what saith the people to-day?” - -“Despair filleth all hearts, my lord, and the king rendeth his garments -and weepeth, for there be none to help.” - -The face of the older man suddenly became gray and drawn and he went on -talking, but as if to himself: “Neither king nor people remember that -Jehovah is their refuge, a very present help in trouble. Yet will not -the son of Jezebel hearken nor the people whose minds the priests of -Baal hath darkened.” He stood silent a moment, then stretched out his -arms over the parapet, toward the panoramic view of the city and valley -below. - -“O Israel, that ye would consider and know that the Lord is good and -that thy strength cometh from him, whose servant I am!” - -His head sank upon his breast in meditation, but ere long he roused -himself and spoke with decision: “We have waited many days, Gehazi. Now -shall they see the salvation of the Lord of Hosts. Do thou send to the -palace and say to the young King Jehoram, ‘Wherefore hast thou rent thy -garments? Let this man, Naaman, come now to me and he shall know that -there is a God in Israel and I, his prophet.’” - -Gehazi again bowed low, murmuring some words of assent, after which he -remembered to speak of the visitor below. - -“A stranger, my master, is without the gate, desiring to talk with the -seer. He giveth his name as Isaac of Damascus, a soldier. Shall I bid -him enter?” - -“Knowest thou his voice, Gehazi?” - -“Nay, my master, but it hath the ring of sincerity.” - -“Then shall he be admitted. Doubtless he cometh with this Syrian, -Naaman, and seeketh me to inquire of the Lord concerning him. I await -him here.” - -Gehazi leisurely descended the stairs, crossed the courtyard, opened -the gate and received the visitor within. Isaac’s sandals having been -left outside, Gehazi brought forth a basin over which the young man -held first his hands and then his feet while the servant, from the ewer -which he held, poured water over them. Isaac then wiped off the water -with the towel which hung from the other’s girdle. - -Gehazi now disappeared and a moment later set before the stranger -a little bread and wine. This was partaken of with the audible -satisfaction which Eastern etiquette demanded--the smacking of lips -which told of the pleasure conferred by this attention. - -These ceremonies over, the visitor was conducted to the roof, where -the host awaited him. Gehazi bowed low before his master: “It is Isaac, -a soldier of Damascus.” - -The older man forsook his meditation and looked toward his guest. In -the meanwhile, he of whom they spoke, apparently seeing nothing at all -had yet seen everything. No detail of his surroundings had escaped his -observant eye. - -“If I like not the master better than the man,” he thought, “then -shall I know that the little maid hath been indeed mistaken in putting -confidence here,” and he sighed. - -Noting that he was expected to approach, Isaac ran forward, prostrating -himself. Rising, he reverentially took between his hands the face -of the seer and kissed his head. Immediately the older man extended -his hand, which the visitor clasped, and each kissed the back of the -other’s hand. Isaac’s greeting was the tribute of an inferior to a -revered superior. Elisha’s extended hand was a condescension which the -younger man understood as placing him on the footing of an equal or -that of an honored guest, yet courtesy forbade him to speak until his -host had first taken the initiative. - -The keen gaze of the latter seemed to penetrate his gorgeous costume -and lay bare every secret of his soul, but the voice was kindly: “What -is thy need, my son?” - -“Thou art Elisha, prophet of Jehovah?” - -“Yea, my son. What wouldst thou?” - -What would he? Isaac’s voice fairly trembled with the earnestness of -his desire, and he spoke rapidly: “That thou wouldst heal my master, -Naaman the Syrian.” - -The prophet sighed. “Neither king nor people have asked this thing at -the hand of the Lord. Great love hast thou for thy master that thou -comest to me.” - -“Love and gratitude and admiration and pity, my lord. All these have -I for my great and good master, Naaman, but I have come to thee more -in dread of sorrow to a little maid whom I carried away captive almost -five years ago and who hath brought to mind the teaching of my mother, -who was of the Land of Gilead. Thou must know, oh my father, that among -so many gods it is hard to know the one supreme save as now and again -one performeth some mighty work which causeth men to say, ‘Lo here,’ -or ‘Lo there,’ but my mother and this little maid have ever maintained -that Jehovah is God alone, who only doeth marvelous works. If this be -so, thou his prophet canst heal my master of his leprosy.” - -Straight into the troubled eyes of his young visitor the older man -looked and smiled. “It is well, my son. To win the unselfish affection -of a child; to love a maid purely and protectingly and to keep thyself -worthy of both will be to thy remorseful soul as waters of cleansing.” -Then, sternly: “And to atone for the evil thou hast wrought to the -House of Caleb, I charge thee to do this thing lest the wrath of -Jehovah fall upon thee.” - -Awed and assenting, Isaac stood through a few moments of silence on the -part of his host. At last the latter turned to him. “As to thy master, -Naaman, behold, before thy return to the palace, he will have received -a message from the king to present himself to me. To-morrow at this -hour thou shalt bring him hither and both he and thou shalt know the -only true God.” - -The speaker made a gesture by which his visitor understood that the -interview was ended. With respectful ceremony Isaac made his adieux -and started back to the Ivory Palace, back to his impatient master. As -he went he reviewed the events of the past few weeks, the disquieting -rumors which his familiarity with the language had enabled him to -hear in the long walks he had taken through the city with a view to -news-gathering, a pastime inspired by Jehoram’s delay and Naaman’s -depression. It was this which had driven him to the prophet. He must -know for himself if there were hope. - -At the palace gate there awaited him a servant whom they had brought -from Syria to say that his master desired his presence without delay. -Isaac presented himself humbly, half expecting the wrath which he -encountered. - -“So thine own business and pleasure are more to thee than mine, Isaac.” - -“Nay, my master, I--” - -“The king’s messenger hath been here and thou away. None but Lemuel to -speak his tongue and he haltingly and the message one of importance. -Yet peradventure I should not have expected thy interest. Thinkest thou -I have not marked thy many absences of late and this the longest of -all?” - -“But, my master, if thou hadst followed me--” The eager tone trailed -off into silence. How could he relate the disheartening tidings he had -heard on every hand when it could but add to his master’s impatience -and perhaps frustrate the very purpose for which they had come? The -pause was lengthy. - -Naaman’s manner changed from sarcastic irritability to amused -toleration. “I had forgotten, Isaac, how oft thou hast been in this -land. I should have remembered thy youth and thy good looks and the -charm of the maids of Israel.” - -“Nay, nay, my master. I but went--” - -Naaman waved aside the explanation. “Few maidens are unwilling to -smile upon a soldier, but it mattereth not,” he said with finality. “I -should not expect from thee the wisdom of age. I do not expect it. But -go now and make what preparations are necessary, for to-morrow, at the -fourth hour, we present ourselves before this prophet of Jehovah for my -healing. The mouth of the king hath spoken it.” - -Other mouths, both within and without the palace, took up the words and -repeated them until, between excitement and curiosity, Samaria slept -badly that night. The next morning, at the hour appointed, the narrow -streets of the city were packed with humanity as the Syrian embassy -wended its slow and stately way to the house of the Man of God. - -In front rode several dignitaries in chariots representing King -Jehoram. Next came Isaac on horseback, attended by his servant and -a soldier or two who preceded the chariot of Naaman. The Syrian -bodyguard, who followed, were escorted by the flower of the Israelitish -army. In the rear came the pack-animals, their picturesque drivers, -and a few more soldiers. It was a civil and not a military procession, -and the splendor and dignity of both countries were represented. Amid -gaping crowds the company came to a halt before the House of Elisha. -Slowly and as if in expectation of their arrival, the gate opened. The -moment was tense with expectancy. As a mark of respect to the prophet -all dismounted, including Naaman, but it was not Elisha. It was his -servant, Gehazi, with a message: - -“Thus saith the Man of God: ‘Go wash in the Jordan seven times, and thy -flesh shall come again to thee and thou shalt be clean.’” - -All eyes were turned upon Naaman, who flushed crimson with rage -and disappointment. The Jordan indeed! The muddy, swift-flowing, -treacherous Jordan! Contrast it with the clear, sparkling waters of -the Abana and Pharpar back in Syria! If all he needed was to dip in -some river, he much preferred those at home. They were, at least, less -repulsive than this boasted stream in a foreign land. Were they not -better than all the rivers of Israel? And the idea of sending a servant -with the message! Why did not the prophet himself come out, and stand, -and call upon the name of his God in the spectacular manner of the -East? Why did he not strike his hand over the diseased flesh and effect -a cure with all the ceremony it was natural to expect? The meanest -servant could have hoped for nothing less than such treatment as he, -Naaman, had received. To put the most charitable construction upon the -act, the prophet had evidently not understood the position held by his -visitor, else he would have acted more in accordance with the customs -of the day. Nevertheless he, Naaman, had not come all the way to Israel -to be treated discourteously, slightingly; to be mocked and ridiculed. -The long and painful journey had been worse than useless. They would -return whence they had come and woe to Israel when Ben-hadad heard! - -The Syrian embassy whispered among themselves. The elders of the city -and the dignitaries from the palace held a brief parley and then -approached Naaman with an air of dismayed humility, with apology and -almost with entreaty, but the outraged visitor was conscious only -of the insult put upon him. In the face of his anger all of Isaac’s -diplomacy served only to ruffle his feelings the more and to make the -efforts of the young interpreter and servant appear ridiculous in the -eyes of those who saw the futility of anything but surrender to the -exasperating circumstances. The king’s representatives were thoroughly -alarmed. In a few days, perhaps, when the wrath of their mighty visitor -had cooled, he might be persuaded to try the remedy, which appeared -even to them as questionable, if not absurd. If he did not care to -be reasonable, or if the prescription failed, then, indeed, the last -state of this miserable affair would be worse than the first. Years -ago King Ahab had had Ben-hadad at his mercy; Israel had put her foot -upon Syria’s neck, but since then other wars had changed entirely the -complexion of Eastern politics.[4] - -It was a crestfallen party which took its slow departure from the -prophet’s house. Even the horses seemed to feel the general air of -gloom and walked less proudly. Isaac, chagrined at this unexpected -turn of affairs, heard not the comments of his companions, saw not the -jostling and awe-struck throngs, cared not for his master’s ire. He -was conscious only that back in Syria was a maid with the light of -happy expectancy in her eyes and it must not be dimmed! He resolved it -fiercely, striving to consider the situation as calmly as possible. -For Miriam’s sake, considerations of self were obliterated. Into the -struggle he threw his all, risking his future and the favor of his -impulsive master. At a turn into the wider street which led to the -palace, Naaman, with uncooled wrath, commanded greater speed, but -Isaac, turning, wheeled his horse directly in the path of the chariot, -thus halting the entire company. - -The anger in his master’s eye was like a drawn sword, but love for -Miriam was like a shield, warding off the thrusts. His voice slightly -trembled but he held his ground: “My father, if the prophet had bid -thee do some great thing, wouldst thou not have done it? How much -rather when he saith to thee, ‘Wash and be clean’?” - -Naaman, the bluff man of moods, at first irritated at such daring, -gradually became aware that he admired it. He himself had experienced -great moments and high courage. And there was no selfishness in the -plea. Isaac was asking for nothing which could benefit him personally. -Naaman looked at the straight, young figure, at the earnest face, at -the yearning affection in the eyes. “My father,” he had said. Naaman -felt the charm of deference from youth to age; the tribute of regard -from man to master; the acknowledgment of respect from an inferior. -“If the prophet had bid thee do some great thing, wouldst thou not have -done it?” He would. He was keyed up to any effort. That was wherein lay -the disappointment. “How much rather when he saith to thee, ‘Wash and -be clean’?” The logic appealed to Naaman’s sense of justice. Why not -indeed? It could but fail as had everything else. Why take all this -trouble and then refuse to do the thing recommended? - -The king’s representatives looked on in amazement. Who and what was -this youthful interpreter and courtier that he dared speak words of -remonstrance and exhortation to this powerful foreigner? That he -was doing just this was evident even though the language used left -the exact sentences in doubt. The Syrian soldiery held its breath -in wonder, uncertain whether to admire Isaac’s bravery or condemn -his temerity. They would decide according to the outcome. Naaman’s -expression passed through a series of changes and took on the cool -matter-of-fact. - -“On,” he directed, “on--to the Jordan!” - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -REWARDS - - -From the city of Samaria to the banks of the Jordan was some -thirty-five miles, considerably more than a day’s journey each way. -It lacked an hour of noon when they started, so Naaman’s party was -obliged to encamp over night, and it was late the following afternoon -when they finally reached their destination. With an eagerness that -knew no faltering, no uncertainty, Isaac had led the way. Now, finding -a shallow spot in the turbulent river near one of the fords, a spot -warmed for hours by the summer sun, Naaman had dipped seven times, as -directed, the seventh turning vague hope into joyous certainty. He was -healed every whit! Joy knew no bounds. The king’s representatives had -embraced him and each other. Israel was saved! The Syrian embassy was -scarcely less contained. Even the camel drivers from the desert and the -lowest of the servants shouted with loud voices and great enthusiasm -and Naaman beamed upon them all, but it was Isaac to whom his first -words of relief and happiness had been addressed, and Isaac upon whom -he smiled with tenderness and even affection. - -With hearts attuned to see the wonderful yellows and browns of the -Valley of Jezreel in late summer, their horses’ hoofs had again -pattered its long expanse, the laden camels and asses driven in the -rear. One more night they had encamped and now they came straggling up -the hill they had descended three days before. But the young leader -had made a slight error in judgment as to the time of arrival. It was -shortly after sunset, a few minutes past the hour when the city closed -its gates--and no man came to open! Lemuel, companion of Isaac’s old -scouting days, approached him with a respect so profound that its -insincerity was patent. - -“Sir, there be not room among this crowd of mendicants,” glancing -contemptuously at other belated travelers, “to spread our camping -equipment with due regard to our importance, and without it we shall -find the night dews too heavy to be pleasant. I pray thee have the -gates opened without delay that thy servants may render thee the honor -due so great a captain.” - -Annoyed, Isaac ceased thundering at the gates and became aware of the -murmuring among his own party and the derision of the merchants and -others who, like themselves, seemed doomed to spend the night with only -the city walls for a covering while the chill air of the mountains -penetrated even the thickest of garments. The voice of Naaman commanded -silence. He spoke compassionately to Isaac. - -“My son, he at whom the multitude throws roses feels mostly the thorns. -He who by any act becomes more noticeable than his fellows is the -target for their envy. Only a brave man can afford to be prominent. Do -I not know, I, the veteran of a hundred wars and judged of all? Courage -in the peril of battle I know thou hast, Isaac, for with mine own eyes -have I beheld, but courage in the peril of success, hast thou fortitude -sufficient for this?” - -The Syrian party had unconsciously drawn closer together, away from -the motley crowd of late-comers who were striving to make themselves -comfortable in the shadow of the walls and were fighting energetically -for the best places. The king’s representatives, in another group, -were making a determined onslaught upon the stout gates with their -swords and spears. Lemuel again drew near Isaac, this time in hurried -pompousness. - -“Answer thou wisely,” he said in an undertone. “He meaneth to reward -thee. Remember that I have been thy friend, thy companion since -boyhood, intimate enough for such jesting as I had with thee a moment -ago.” - -Isaac shook off the counsel impatiently. His action had been inspired -with no thought of reward, save in the joy of the little maid; yet -Naaman was rich and generous and a gift not unlikely. If given a -choice, he knew what he should ask. He had considered the matter, -but the plan did not include Lemuel. The latter fell back a pace. His -words had reached no other ears than those for whom they were intended, -being drowned in the din of the pounding on the gate. Naaman, amiable -in the delight of physical relief, gave a few brief directions and his -party settled down to waiting with whatever calmness they could muster. -Audible complaints ceased. At last, on top of the city wall, a watchman -was seen approaching from the tower at the far corner. At first a -speck in the distance as he made the rounds of the wall leisurely, he -finally stood near enough to the gate to survey the assemblage outside. -With unsympathetic eye he viewed the poorer travelers and the belated -merchants, but a change came over his countenance as he beheld the -king’s representatives and the Syrian embassy. Instantly he disappeared -within the city and the party without drew a sigh of content. - -Yet the gate was not opened; that is, not the great gate. A smaller -one within the larger was flung wide and the watchman appeared with -obsequious interest: “Behold the needle’s eye. Enter thou and thy -beasts.” - -The men could get through readily, and even the horses could with -difficulty, but hard is it indeed for a camel to go through the eye -of a needle! They were made to kneel and then, with much tugging and -cursing and shouting their drivers at last succeeded in getting them -through its narrow space. The asses required almost as much effort, -having to be unladen and their burdens strapped upon them once more on -the city-side of the gate. Finally, only the chariots and the least -important luggage remained under guard without while the watchman -closed the small gate decisively against the envious groups left -deriding and pleading and cursing in the shadow of the walls. - -The next morning Naaman’s company again stood before the abode of -Elisha. Again was it surrounded by gaping throngs. Again had the -city of Samaria cause to be both curious and joyful. Did not all -wish to gaze upon this great foreign diplomat who had been healed in -the Jordan? Did not his recovery mean that war had been averted from -Israel? What would he say to the prophet and what part of his goodly -treasure would he leave behind? Part of this question had been answered -before it had been asked; answered before he left the palace, when he -had proffered a gift to the king, a gift generous in itself but small -in comparison with what he had brought, most of which was intended for -the Man of God. - -Naaman’s visit to the prophet, however, had an even greater -significance than the crowd surmised. In fact, his errand was -threefold. First, he had come to bring a thank-offering. Second, he -wished to make public confession of his belief in that Jehovah who, -though Israel’s national God,[5] should now be his own. Third, he -desired greatly to have the prophet’s advice on a matter which weighed -heavily upon his mind. This time he was not required to deal with the -servant, Gehazi. Instead, with all the elaborate courtesy of the East, -Naaman was received by Elisha in person. Not with the abruptness and -haste which we of the West are pleased to call “business,” but with -deliberation and delicacy, Naaman made known his errand. - -“Behold, now know I that there is no God in all the earth but in -Israel; now therefore, I pray thee, take a blessing of thy servant,” -and Naaman stretched forth his hand toward the camels laden with -treasure, those rich stores of which Damascus was proud and which, -brought in this form, was the current idea of wealth. - -Elisha demurred. “As the Lord liveth, before whom I stand, I will -receive none.” - -Naaman stared. Surely he did not mean it. This was merely the usual -reluctance, the hypocritical hesitancy which might be expected. All -over the Orient it was customary to give presents to the various -holy men who were successful interpreters of the wills of their -respective gods, and none ever refused. This man had a different -manner: a courtesy without servility, an assurance without bigotry, -self-respect without self-esteem, but he was human! Once and again -Naaman urged acceptance of the offering, but Elisha was firm. A murmur -of surprise ran through the ranks of the Syrians and Naaman turned -impatiently, commanding their withdrawal that he and the seer might -converse in private. Isaac, sole attendant upon his master, as Gehazi -was upon Elisha, communed with himself: “So saith the little maid,” -and went over in his mind her protests against this gift and his own -worldly-wise replies. So different was Jehovah from other gods! So -unusual a man was his prophet! - -Finding insistence useless, Naaman with fine feeling ignored the -benefit he had thought to confer and begged instead that a favor be -granted him. “Shall not then, I pray thee, be given to thy servant -two mules’ burden of earth?” From the land Jehovah was supposed to -especially bless Naaman would take sufficient holy ground to erect -in heathen Syria an altar to this new God. “For thy servant will -henceforth offer neither burnt-offering nor sacrifice unto other gods -but only unto Jehovah.” - -The prophet graciously gave consent and dispatched Gehazi with servants -of their visitor to see that proper attention be given the matter. - -Naaman’s brow clouded as his host stood waiting in dignified civility. -Drawing nearer, he spoke in tones which betrayed his agitation of -mind. “In this thing, however, the Lord pardon thy servant; that when -my master, the king, goeth into the House of Rimmon to worship there -(for thou knowest that my master, the king, leaneth upon the hand of -thy servant) and I must needs bow myself in the House of Rimmon as -its worship requireth; when I bow myself I make request that the Lord -pardon thy servant in this thing.” - -For a moment the prophet did not speak and Naaman waited anxiously. -His was not a nature which could practice deception or tolerate it in -others, yet between his own religious convictions and his official -duties as a member of the Syrian Court was a great gulf fixed. Elisha’s -answer fell upon his hungry heart like a refreshing shower on parched -ground. - -“It is well. Go thou in peace.” - -The great soldier prostrated himself before the seer, who politely -bade him rise, and their farewells over--those long farewells of the -Orient--the Syrian embassy turned its face homeward, wondering greatly -at what it had seen and heard. - -Through the gate of the house just left peered a frowning face. Gehazi, -servant to the prophet, had regarded his master’s decision concerning -the gift with some displeasure. True, Elisha was not poor, but to -allow wealth to pass as lightly through his fingers as a man openeth -his hand and droppeth seed in sowing time! But stay, should not his -own services be rewarded with a little, a very little indeed, of -what this foreigner was reluctantly carrying away? His eyes, lighted -with cupidity, grew cautious as they searched the apartments within -for trace of his master. In a moment he had shut the gate softly and -stepped outside. - -Isaac, hearing behind them the footsteps of a runner, looked backward -curiously, checking his horse. Naaman, hearing at the same moment, -commanded his charioteer to stop while he dismounted. Walking a few -steps toward the runner, whom he perceived to be the prophet’s servant, -he greeted him anxiously. - -“Is all well?” - -The man reassured him. “All is well, but my master hath sent me, -saying, ‘Behold even now there be come to me from Mount Ephraim two -young men of the Sons of the Prophet. Give them, I pray thee, a talent -of silver and two changes of garments.’” - -In answer to this request, Naaman generously insisted upon giving more -than was desired: “Be content, take two talents,” and although Gehazi -objected with well simulated humility there was in his tones no such -decisive finality as had been present in the voice of his master. - -Calling two of the servants, Naaman saw to it that they bore before -the messenger the heavy silver, cut and weighed, and the two changes -of fine raiment. Well satisfied that at least something of all he had -taken had been accepted, the Syrian captain reentered his chariot and -the party waited for the return of the burden bearers. Isaac looked -after the trio questioningly. - -“There be many Sons of the Prophet,” he reasoned with himself, “would -their leader, the Man of God, honor two above the rest? Nay, it seemeth -not so to me. Somehow I like not this man Gehazi. Never once, in all of -our dealings, hath he looked my master or me straight in the eye!” - -At the same moment another mind was dealing with the same problem. -Gehazi, elated at Naaman’s generosity, had been likewise perplexed. -To receive a present was one thing, to dispose of it quite another, -especially in view of the two servants who carried the treasure and -before whom he must act the part of Elisha’s messenger as he had -represented himself to be. At the tower in the vineyard at the foot of -the hill he dismissed the men and took the burden himself, staggering -under its weight. Within the house he hastily disposed of his new -possessions and betook himself to his master, wondering if his absence -had been noted and striving to assume an air of innocence by busying -himself about necessary tasks. - -Elisha’s keen eye rested upon the guilty countenance: “Whence comest -thou, Gehazi?” - -“Thy servant went no whither.” - -The prophet’s righteous indignation was kindled at the falsehood. “Went -not my heart with thee when the man turned back from his chariot to -meet thee?” - -The fear in the craven face opposite told its own story. The prophet’s -wrath overflowed. To have upheld the honor of the Lord of Hosts and -then this misrepresentation! “Is it a time to receive money and to -receive garments and olive-yards and vineyards and sheep and oxen and -men servants and maid servants? The leprosy therefore of Naaman shall -cleave unto thee and unto thy seed forever.” - -Gehazi cowered, weeping and pleading, but the stern edict had gone -forth. Already he knew himself to be the loathsome object Naaman had -once been, and at the same hour when Isaac lay down to sleep with a -smile upon his face, Gehazi rent his garments and cried aloud outside -the gate through which Greed had driven him. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -PLANS - - -Naaman, freed from the bondage of physical suffering, made plans for -the future with all the abandon of a joyous child. The first day of the -return journey he talked much with Isaac, whom he graciously permitted -to ride beside him, the target for both the flattery and the malice of -his less-favored associates. - -“There remaineth, Isaac, most of the treasure we brought to this land, -despite our trifling gifts to King Jehoram and to the prophet’s servant -for his master’s almsgiving. Had it not been for thee I should not now -be healed. Behold, the gift is thine.” - -Isaac bowed low. “Nay, my lord, for had it not been for the little maid -we should not now be in Israel.” - -The great man pondered. “The maid shall be suitably rewarded, but what -desirest thou for thyself?” - -Thus encouraged the young soldier dared to speak of what had been in -his mind since that day of healing at the Jordan. “Yea, my lord, much -more than thou wilt wish to give, but if, oh my lord, I have found -favor in thy sight, grant, I pray thee, that Miriam be allowed to -return to Israel and to her home as she longeth to do, and that thou -shouldst also allow to return with the maid her brother Benjamin, a -friend to whom I am much indebted, but who, being a shepherd, was -carried into captivity with his flock by Eleazer’s band about the time -I took Miriam.” - -“But for thyself, Isaac, what for thyself?” - -The soldier gazed beseechingly at the older man. “For myself do I ask -these things. Do they not mean the reward of a conscience at peace? And -that is something, my lord, I have not had this long time.” - -Naaman was silent a moment, lost in thought. At last he spoke: “It -shall be done, Isaac, even as thou desirest, but more. This treasure -will I divide between thee and the maid, and when she is old enough she -shall be given thee in marriage. I see thou hast a tender affection for -her. It is well.” - -With a gesture of dismissal Naaman was turning away, but Isaac -caught hold of the fringe of his garment, speaking with unmistakable -earnestness. “Thou hast spoken truly, my master. I love the maid as -she cannot now comprehend and she loveth me, but not in the way I -would wish. There be many kinds of love, and when she is old enough to -consider such things I pray thee help her to be happy.” - -Naaman could not hide his amusement. “I see, Isaac, that I was not -wrong when I accused thy good looks of leading thee into experiences. -Thou speakest of love wisely.” - -The amusement faded into seriousness. “Oft have I thought, Isaac, that -thou hast shown discretion far beyond thy years. As thou knowest, -my steward groweth old. In time he must be supplanted by a younger -man, and even now he needeth to lean upon the stronger arm of youth. -Where can I find one more diligent and less self-seeking than thou? -Behold, from henceforth thou shalt be no longer a soldier, but greater -responsibility shall be given into thine hand. In time thou mayest be -over all of my substance as was thy father before thee.” - -Isaac stammered his thanks, but its lack of enthusiasm irritated his -master. “Carest thou not for the reward I would give thee? Peradventure -thou hast some other request. Speak and conceal it not.” - -And Isaac spoke, too utterly miserable to be prudent. “Could I be born -and grow up in thy house, my master, and not wish to be even as thou -art, a man of war? Could I be thine armor-bearer and not feel that war -is more glorious than peace? Could I be promoted to the captaincy of a -small band and not wish to lead a greater? Could I follow thee and not -wish to be like thee? Thy wealth thou hast inherited, but the affection -of the people thou hast won by thine own valor, thine own worth. I had -dreamed even of this. Once I gained the favor of Naaman, Captain of -the Host. Henceforth thou dost ask me to seek only the favor of Naaman, -the rich man.” He ceased speaking, his breast heaving, tears in his -eyes. - -Naaman stared at the dejected figure with incredulity and growing -displeasure. Why all this show of emotion over a benefit he had thought -to confer? His kindness was misconstrued. His thoughtfulness was -considered intrusive. He was defied and rebuked by a servant. Yet he -might have expected ingratitude. It was the way of the world. He had -imagined that Isaac was different, but he had been disillusioned. His -tones held the sadness of disappointed hope. - -“I had believed thou wert glad to serve me, Isaac, but thou art like -the others: thou wouldst rather serve thyself. It is well that I should -have learned this before making any mistake.” - -With a disdainful gesture he turned from his one-time favorite. Isaac, -shocked into full understanding of the mischief his tongue had wrought, -dropped to the rear of the chariot and by degrees to the rear of the -company, affecting not to see the curious and surprised glances with -which his action was greeted by his companions. Lemuel rode forward -hastily. Passing Isaac he leaned from his saddle, speaking in so low a -voice that even the soldier nearest could not catch the words, much as -he tried: - -“Thou fool! Knowest thou not his imperious temper? Couldst thou not -bear with his impatience? Thou shouldst have considered only the -reward. Thou hast had thy chance and lost it. Next to thee he hath -seemed to regard me with favor. Peradventure the opportunity thou hast -thrown away will be mine. Behold, I go to do his bidding.” - -He pushed his way to a place just behind the chariot, where he rode -for a time, respectful and attentive. Naaman, saddened and perplexed -by Isaac’s outburst, accepted Lemuel’s attentions with a certain -degree of grateful appreciation which gradually became relief and -even pleasure, and when evening fell, Lemuel’s tent was pitched next -Naaman’s, in the very center of the encampment, while Isaac kept to the -outer circle. The evening meal was long since eaten; the bustle of the -camp had quieted into the soundlessness of night; not a figure moved -among the dark tent-shapes and masses of camp paraphernalia. Even the -pack-animals were quiet, but hour after hour Isaac lay awake. - -The stars looked at him with far-off, unsympathetic faces. He was -bitterly humiliated. Why had he so rashly thrown away his master’s -favor? Why had he treated his future advancement as a child would -lightly discard a withered flower? It was not merely of himself he -should think, but what would Miriam say when she knew? The impetuous -youth who had never faltered before a foe quailed now, in imagination, -before the clear vision of a maid’s disapproval. And then the remedy -flashed through his mind. Discarding it at first as absurd and -impossible, he ended by weighing carefully reasons for and against. -At last he rose and stealthily went for his tired horse. No watchman -questioned his action or interfered, but the significance of this did -not occur to him until afterward. - -Leading the animal apart from the camp he stopped in the shadow of a -great rock. He was facing the road which led to Damascus. A little -farther along there crossed it the no less important highway which went -down into Egypt. It was well known to every traveler and each twist and -turn of it had been familiar to Isaac since his scouting days. He would -have no difficulty finding his way. Egypt was his destination. There -would he be a soldier. The ruling power was always anxious to recruit -its forces with any foreigner willing to serve, and how much more would -he be welcomed when it was known that his father had been an Egyptian! - -Although the decision was made, the young man hesitated. To be a -soldier for pay, and pay alone! To fight, not to defend the weak and -repulse the strong but to uphold the quarrels of a master he should -hate! To leave the impulsive, impatient but kindly and generous Naaman, -the only master he had ever known! To cut himself off from jealous, -loving Milcah and repudiate the home of his mother! Most of all, never -to see the maid again! What would she think of this desertion? He -shuddered at the word, yet it was that despicable thing--desertion -of duty. He wavered an instant, then his face set into lines of -bitterness. By whatever name it might be called it was necessary. -Was he not already disgraced? Had he not foolishly and without just -cause forfeited his master’s favor? Did he deserve or could he expect -sympathy or even respect from Milcah and Miriam? - -Still he did not start. Before his mind’s eye passed quickly a panorama -of all his dreams, now brought to naught. Brushing a mist from his eyes -he sighed and mounted the fiery little steed of the desert, once a gift -from his master. Motionless he sat in the shadow, staring, for down -the road, like a moving picture, came a band of mounted men. Was his -dream coming true? Was this the phantom command he had often seen in -imagination? And then he came back to realities with a start. His horse -seemed to feel the suspicion which passed through his rider’s mind and -was instantly alert, responsive, trembling slightly, but eager for the -fray. - -On the company came. There was no mistaking the camels and the armed -men, though not a sound of their advance came to the sensitive horse -and to the man who crouched in the shadows, listening. It was this -silence which proclaimed their errand. They were robbers coming by -night with the feet of their animals muffled, their object being no -other than Naaman’s treasure, upon which they hoped to pounce while -the camp slumbered, exhausted by a hard day’s travel. And then it -occurred to Isaac for the first time that the watchmen should have seen -and reported. He remembered that he had noticed no passing to and fro -on the usual rounds. Was there a traitor within the camp? But he had no -time for investigation. He lifted his face to the stars for an instant -and through the cool stillness of the night sent a long, weird call. - -It was the Syrian battle cry. The camp responded without delay, and -Isaac, dashing out of his shadowed retreat, led the first charge -against the oncoming robbers, made desperate by the miscarriage of -their plans and the surprise of the attack. It was a longer fight -than might have been anticipated. Their numbers were almost evenly -matched and both sides felt that so much wealth was worth fighting for. -Naaman’s party, however, had the handicap of weariness, for its leader -was pushing toward Damascus at a forced speed. Isaac never understood -how it was that he and his master and Lemuel became separated from the -rest and cornered. He only knew, with the clearness of vision which -comes in a time of emergency, that the chances were all against them -and in favor of the robbers. - -In that moment, also, there swept over him the certainty that he had -never cared for Naaman the soldier and even less for Naaman the rich -man, but that Naaman his master was dearer to him than all the world -except the little maid. He saw the battle-line draw closer and closer -about them. He noted the spear-thrust which Lemuel avoided and which -Naaman, though he did not see, would soon feel unless, by a quick -movement on his own part--in Isaac’s side he felt a sharp and agonizing -pain as if he were being burned with red hot lead. His strength -suddenly forsook him. Crumpled up on the rocky road, held fast in the -grip of a dull torture and a nauseating weakness, the struggle surged -around and over him and he cared not, nor knew when it ceased. - -It was long past daylight when his dull eyes opened upon his -surroundings and his stiff lips tried to frame a question. It was -Naaman himself who bent over him tenderly and answered with a -matter-of-factness in itself reassuring: - -“Three of our men have we lost and four beside thyself are dangerously -wounded. The others are able to be about the camp and to minister to -the sufferers. We shall rest here for two or three days and then resume -the journey slowly. Yea, the treasure is safe and we have buried many -of our enemies. But rest thou and so shalt thy strength return.” - -The speaker gave his patient a drink of something that was cool and -refreshing and bathed his wound with a mixture of oil and wine which -was supposed to have great virtue in soothing and healing. But Isaac -could not rest until one more query was answered. - -“And thou?” - -His articulation was feeble, but it was understood. As his master -stooped to reply two scalding drops fell upon Isaac’s hand and the -words came chokingly: - -“Safe--thanks to thy fidelity.” - -And then Naaman did a strange thing for one who was merely a master. He -gathered Isaac within his arms and wept openly over him. - -“That I should have forgotten how high flame the fires of youth; its -ambition and its courage and its boldness; its longing for achievement -and its impatience of restraint. Yet of these is manhood born. Ah, if -thou stayest with me, Isaac, I will remember, yea, I will.” - -The younger man looked up into his face wonderingly. Stay with him! -What did he mean? He was not going to Egypt. Not now. He was going back -to the little maid, and home. He was, however, too weak and too weary -to make explanations, so he closed his eyes and when he opened them -again the stars were out once more and his master still lingered beside -him. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -HOME - - -In the House of Naaman at Damascus all was anxiety. As soon as the -days were accomplished when the caravan might return, a watchman -was stationed upon the roof to give tidings of its arrival, but day -succeeded day without sight of the party itself or even a messenger. At -least twenty times between dawn and sunset did Miriam run lightly up -the stone staircase to her own favorite spot. Shading her eyes with her -hand she would gaze long into the grayish distances and then, sighing, -descend to her mistress, who, weary with waiting and unutterably -distressed at the delay, had ceased asking questions with her lips -and now asked them only with her eyes. When no gladness appeared in -Miriam’s expressive countenance, Adah would sink back upon her silken -cushions with one brief exclamation: - -“It is as before. We could expect nothing else.” - -Not even the little maid’s confident cheerfulness could rouse her -to hope. Added to the gloom of her mistress, Miriam experienced -other trials. Her position in the household began to be somewhat -uncomfortable. She could not fail to be aware of whispered remarks, -slighting, scornful, amused. If a visit to the prophet who dwelt in the -Land of Israel were all that was needed for her master’s restoration, -why had he not returned ere this with the healing predicted? The delay -was proof positive of the failure of his mission. And who had doubted -that it would fail? Certainly not they. Had they not said all along -that if Baal and Rimmon and Chemosh and Tammuz and all the other gods -could do nothing, was it not highly improbable that this Jehovah of -Israel, of whom the maid was always talking, could do more? And the -idea of one in her place offering advice to her master! - -It was on a particularly trying day that anticipation was changed -to certainty. It needed not the cry of the watchman nor the tense -excitement with which the household responded to apprize Miriam, for in -her own particular lookout on the roof she had observed for herself. -Far in the distance she had noted moving specks which could be no other -than a caravan. Fascinated, hopeful, she had watched its approach -until assured from appearances that it _might_ be Naaman’s party. She -had seen the sudden paralysis of Damascus traffic and had heard the -exultant cry of the multitude, two marks of respect accorded only the -great and the popular. It _must_ be Naaman’s party! Slowly and with -dignity the procession moved through the narrow, crowded streets amid -the cheering throngs and came to a halt before the arched gateway. -With wildly beating heart Miriam knew that it _was_ Naaman’s party. - -Peeping over the parapet surrounding the roof, she noted that the -household had hurried into festal garb and gone forth to meet its -master in the solemn joy of the dance, accompanied by the music of -silver trumpets and cymbals, stringed instruments and timbrels. Her -place was with them, but surprise and dismay held her motionless for -a long moment, then she bounded down the steps and ran, panting, to -the apartments of her mistress. Adah, in excitement scarcely less than -Miriam’s but decidedly more controlled, stood by the doorway, trembling -and waiting. Miriam, with white face, clutched her garment and her -voice sounded strange even to herself. - -“My mistress, knowest thou? Knowest thou?” - -She could proceed no further. In Adah’s eyes the light of happy -expectancy slowly faded--and it had shown there momentarily. In its -stead came the old, deep despair. Dropping back a pace she covered her -face with her hands. - -“I should have known--oh I think I did know--yea, I knew.” - -Miriam, in utter misery, gazed at her fixedly. “Thou knewest and didst -not tell me. Thou didst wait and let me find out for myself that his -horse is led and riderless and that they carry a prostrate figure! -Someone hath told thee and thou hast concealed it from me. Oh, how -couldst thou?” - -Adah moaned. “That he could not be healed I felt, I knew, but that it -is with him as thou sayest--Miriam, art thou sure?” - -But Miriam was gone. With swift steps she passed various members of -the elated household. With unseeing eyes she rushed past its master -on his way to his wife’s apartments, and though he stopped and spoke -graciously she noted not it was he. Her objective was a room in another -courtyard where the figure she had seen was being tenderly cared for. -Here she knelt beside Milcah and stroked Isaac’s hand, openly weeping -over him; took from the servant the cooling drink and administered it -herself; listened to an account of the battle with the robbers and -forgot to ask for Naaman, and left the room only when she and Milcah -were satisfied that it was quite safe to leave him in the hands of -other attendants for the time being. - -She was soon summoned to the apartments of her mistress, where she -prostrated herself before her master, but he gently raised her. - -“Look upon me, little maid, and behold what thy faith hath wrought.” - -Timidly she raised her eyes as she was bidden and the look lingered. To -behold him thus restored! Around the mouth which life had molded into -sternness played a little smile, to which the lips of his wife and her -handmaiden likewise responded. - -“Well did I know that Jehovah would do this,” Miriam exclaimed, -delightedly, “if my lord would but go to the Man of God who dwelleth in -Samaria in the Land of Israel.” - -Adah, with the lassitude all gone, drew Miriam down beside her while -the story was told from beginning to end, and the little maid heard -with such great happiness that the attitude and the recital seemed the -most natural thing in the world and not at all, as it was, an unusual -piece of condescension. Nor did either master or mistress appear to -remember. The tale finished and questions asked and answered with -entire frankness, Naaman suddenly propounded a query. - -“And now what wouldst thou, little maid? Behold, a gift is thine.” - -Into Miriam’s eyes crept a certain wistfulness and they entreated her -mistress. Adah turned her own away. Like the sharp thrust of a dagger -she remembered the girl’s wail on the day Naaman had started to Israel -and her own words of promise. Yet how could they let her go? Oh, -anything but this! - -Miriam’s reply was not, however, what was expected by either of her -auditors. “A gift, my lord? Nay, for I sought only thy good because I -loved my mistress and thee.” - -Naaman’s keen eyes searched her face. “We express our thanks by a gift, -little maid. Speak thou and be not afraid.” - -“Then, my lord, let thy gift, I pray thee, come to Isaac, who -deserveth it more. He it is who hath brought this to pass more than thy -handmaiden. Thou wouldst not have listened to me, yet wert thou ready -to hear the servant in whom thou delightest.” - -Naaman toyed with the hilt of the buckler which hung at his girdle. -Strangely unselfish were these Israelites. First the prophet, then -Isaac, now Miriam. “Yea,” he said aloud, “and Isaac shalt have his -reward, but something must be given also to thee. Speak! What wouldst -thou?” - -Thus importuned the girl hesitatingly voiced her desires: “Thou -knowest, my lord, that with great anguish of spirit have I thought upon -the distress of my father and mother, bereft of both son and daughter, -and that with great longing have I desired to know how it fareth with -them. If, therefore, I have found favor in thy sight, I pray that thou -wilt allow my brother, Benjamin, who is a captive shepherd in the -Syrian hill country, to return unto them.” - -Adah drew a sharp breath of surprise and relief, but Naaman was not -satisfied. “Yea, thy brother shalt go. Isaac hath already asked this -thing, but in Benjamin’s hand he shall carry a gift to thy parents. -I have told thee that but a little is gone of all that we took into -Israel. What wouldst thou?” - -Miriam’s decision was prompt. “If thou couldst find it in thine heart -to give him some of the sheep. Thou knowest he hath tended them until -they are dear unto him, and with a few, my father’s flock could again -be restored.” - -Naaman hastened to grant the request. “A few sheep would be but small -recompense for all that I owe thee. He shall take the flock with its -increase. I will send a messenger to the palace and the king will give -orders to his servants that this be done.” - -Miriam knelt before him, her face transfigured with joy. “So good art -thou to thy handmaiden, my lord. I thank thee,” and slipped hastily -away while Naaman and his wife conversed long and earnestly on a -subject Adah presented and which appeared to be of concern to the -little maid, since her name was frequently mentioned. - -“Let us consider well,” advised the man, gravely, “and if thou art of -the same mind a week or so hence--” - -But evidently she was, for Miriam was again summoned to appear before -her master and mistress, and in a maze of bewildered delight soon -afterward sought Isaac on the veranda, where his couch had been placed. - -“And when I am _daughter_ to the House of Naaman, thou who hast taught -me so much must teach me yet more,” she said with smiling confidence in -the help which had never been refused. - -She was surprised at his averted head, his long silence. When he did -speak it was slowly and with seeming difficulty. - -“When thou art daughter to the House of Naaman it will not be my right -to teach thee anything. Then will I come into thy presence only to do -thy bidding. I shall be thy servant even as I am servant to my master -and mistress.” - -The smile left Miriam’s face. She put her hand on his arm and he -covered it with his larger one. - -“But, Isaac,” she began, in a dismayed little voice, “why, Isaac--” and -got no further, for he went on earnestly: - -“But I am glad for thee, Miriam, truly glad. Thou art entirely worthy. -Sweet art thou and refined and teachable, and with the advantages they -will give thee thou shalt be second to none at the court. They have -chosen wisely, much as they owe thee, and thou shouldst be grateful and -pleased at the honor.” - -He smiled at her encouragingly, trying to steady the voice which -sounded so unlike his own, and went on telling her all that the new -position would mean in responsibility and opportunity and happiness. -Very quietly she sat listening, her hand still in his, but when Milcah -came, bringing some nourishment for the invalid, Miriam slipped away to -her favorite nook, trying to think calmly. Somehow joy had fled. - -It had gone for Isaac also. Over and over he told himself how glad -he was for her, and over and over his heart mocked him with its own -desolation. Never again would she come to him with her innocent -confidences; never again bring him her problems to be solved; never -again would he have the sweetness of knowing that he was first to her! -And that was what he wanted; wanted it more intensely than he had -ever wanted anything in his life. Once he had craved the affection of -another maiden. Now he wondered that he should have been carried away -by a fancy. That was a dream, an impossibility. This was reality and -likewise an impossibility, and Isaac was unutterably wretched. - -For a week Miriam avoided him, as he knew she would henceforth, and -then she sought him once more as he moped in the courtyard. It was the -same Miriam he had always known. As if they had parted but an hour ago -she plunged into the continuation of her tale. - -“I am not going to be daughter to the House of Naaman.” - -He was startled. “Miriam! What right hast thou to choose? Thy master -and mistress hath spoken. Naught is left for thee but to obey.” - -“We can always choose between right and wrong, Isaac.” - -He regarded her helplessly. “But what will thy mistress say? She will -be very wroth with thee.” - -Miriam shook her head. “Nay, for I have already explained, and she is -not wroth. She laughed.” - -He could not understand. “Laughed? At what?” - -“I know not,” with a puzzled frown. “What other answer could I make to -her questions and her planning but that I could not be daughter in the -house where thou art only a servant?” - -A long moment of silence. One searching glance and Isaac’s thrill was -strangled by disappointment. Quite frankly her eyes had looked into -his. Very matter-of-fact were the comments she was making upon the -sacredness of friendship and the gratitude she felt for his great -and constant kindnesses. He resisted the impulse to laugh as her -mistress had done. The barbaric joy which her words had awakened died -prematurely. In a little while he was the kindly, serious Isaac of her -former acquaintance. He drew her down on the stone seat beside him, -speaking in a tone of authority he had never used to her before. - -“Sit thou here while I speak plainly to thee. Thinkest thou I shall let -thee ruin thy future for the sake of what thou canst not understand? -Shall I take advantage of thy innocent generosity to thine own hurt? -Am I so weak and my friendship so poor, so mean that I will allow thy -inexperience to deprive thee of that which thou dost so richly deserve?” - -He spared neither himself nor her. He told her of the great riches of -the House of Naaman, of its power, of all the advantages which would -be hers. He reminded her that this was a childless household; that -its mistress was lonely, needing a daughter’s companionship; that he -and Milcah would be proud of her in the new relationship, and that she -would be able to accomplish much good for the name of Jehovah, her God. - -She was distressed at his reception of her tidings. She wept at the -sternness of his tone, but her decision remained unchanged. - -“Thinkest thou I have not thought of all these things, Isaac? Have I -not been to the court with my mistress and beheld its glory and its -folly? It would be wickedness to me. To be daughter in this household -would not mean to give more time or greater service to my mistress, but -less of both, for would not my duties be increased? More than this, -as daughter here I must bow to Rimmon, but as handmaiden I can serve -Jehovah. Thinkest thou the Lord, who looketh upon the heart, would -be unmindful of my deceit? Nor, as I have told thee, would I thus -ungratefully treat my friend. Thinkest thou I could be happy were I to -take precedence of thee?” - -Isaac was sternly resolved. “Miriam, thou must take heed to what I say. -Quickly, before it is too late, thou must go to thy mistress and say--” -but Miriam had gone. - -In her place stood Milcah, shocked and reproving, as is the right of -elder sisters. “I was passing through the courtyard shrubbery and -heard. That she should tell a man what she told thee! And at her age!” - -Isaac’s serenity unexpectedly returned. “That it should be ‘at her -age,’” mocking Milcah’s tone, “is the only sad part of it to me. -Would she were two or three years older! Would she had whispered it, -hesitatingly and with a blush! Then would it have pleased me better, -but as it is, she knoweth not what she hath said, and when she findeth -out she will not mean it.” - -Milcah’s sharp glance encountered one of the maid servants lingering -within a doorway, smiling upon Isaac. The sight infuriated her, and by -contrast, Miriam’s friendly admissions appeared the embodiment of frank -childishness. She sighed. - -“Useless is it to enlighten her or to chide thee, for Miriam is just -Miriam, and neither thou nor I would have her different,” and so -saying, Milcah went her way. - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -DEVOTION - - -The gatekeeper at the House of Naaman was extremely wise. Old and -faithful and trusted, he was an autocrat whose word few had the -temerity to question. For years he had admitted and dismissed through -that gate high and low, rich and poor, distinguished and obscure, -speaking to each in his own tongue and with the manner his rank and -errand demanded. For this reason he felt entirely competent to judge -for himself of the worth of any applicant for admission, without -referring the matter to higher authority. When, therefore, two young -men of poverty-stricken appearance and speaking the language of Israel -came, demanding to see the master of the house, it required but a -moment to decide that their request should, by all means, be refused. - -They were undoubtedly grieved and disappointed. The next day they -came again, also the next and still the fourth, but neither arguments -nor persuasion availed with the gatekeeper. Then they changed their -tactics. They pursued a policy of watchful waiting, coming every day -and crouching on the roadway outside the forbidden walls from the -earliest beam of sunrise until its last faint glow in the evening. -Against such warfare as this the autocrat of the gate was incensed, but -not despondent. Others had made like attempts at various times, but had -never been victorious. - -To the sorely tried youths, their enemy’s resources seemed unlimited. -By turns he tried threats, blows, indifference, sarcasm, and ridicule, -enlisting the sympathy and ready help of the assorted variety of -hangers-on who might always be counted upon to linger in the vicinity -of a rich man’s dwelling. To the gatekeeper’s surprise and disgust, it -was all useless. Smarting under defeat and in great irritation the old -man carried his grievance to Isaac. - -“Right hast thou been to tell me,” the young man assured him. “Either -they be thieves watching their opportunity, in which case the soldiers -should pay heed to them, or else they bear a message sufficiently -important to be heard. I will see them at once.” - -Meanwhile the two on the roadway without held converse in low tones. -“Not in vain have we daily watched these comings and goings,” said one, -“for much have we learned of the ways of the household and the manner -of behavior therein.” - -“Yea, and what meaneth more to us,” responded his companion, “much -have we learned as to _whom_ it is that cometh and goeth: soldiers and -servants, merchants and mendicants and messengers of various sorts as -well as visitors of rank and distinction. Of importance must this man -Naaman be and of considerable possessions. Thinkest thou he will demand -more than we can pay?” - -“Thou knowest the alternative,” was the grim answer. - -“Then,” went on the speaker, “also have we seen the master himself, I -take it, but never close enough to have speech with him. Likewise hath -the mistress passed and a maiden who always goeth forth with her, a -maiden very gorgeously appareled and of great beauty whom we supposed -to be the daughter of the house save that her looks betray a different -lineage. All these and more, yet never the young soldier, Isaac by -name, who carried her away.” - -“And if it were possible,” was the quick retort, “I would be content -not to see him.” - -“More concerned am I,” pursued the other, “that he should not see me. -He may remember that out of his hand did I escape and seek to take me -again. Yet to redeem my promise and thy vow are we come, and I shall -not begrudge the price.” - -At that moment an air of expectancy ran through the group outside the -portal, a thrill which communicated itself even to the two who were -conversing and who, by reason of the hostility offered them, had been -obliged to surrender the strategic position opposite the entrance -and take refuge under the wall at a little distance. The gatekeeper -appeared, beckoning violently. The idle pauper group, each individual -of which hoped this honor was for him, crowded about the man, only to -be repulsed with grumbling curses. The two young men, having learned to -expect nothing but unkindness, merely gazed and wondered. At last they -became aware that it was they who were being called. - -“Come, thou gaunt tricksters. Thou of the brawny arm,” to the younger, -“and thou of the burning eyes,” to the elder. “Thou Israelitish -impostors! Come and tell thy errand to the favorite servant of my -lord Naaman. Come quickly that thou mayest be gone before he loseth -patience.” - -The two looked at each other questioningly, disregarding the curious -and envious eyes upon them. - -“What new insult thinkest thou--?” - -Out of the gate limped a soldier very little older than themselves and -halted before them with a grave salute. - -“Peace be unto thee if thy errand be peace. Naaman, my master, goeth -forth on a matter for the king. Quickly, therefore, thy names and what -it is that bringeth thee hither.” - -The young men bowed low before him and the elder made the necessary -explanations. - -“A long and toilsome journey hath thy servants taken and one beset with -danger, and five lean and hungry years have they spent in preparing -that they might speak to the master of this house concerning a matter -on which only he can speak with both knowledge and authority. So I pray -thee, if thy servants have found favor in thine eyes, grant that their -request be carried to him.” - -“It shall be done,” the soldier answered, tersely, after a momentary -hesitancy, and conducted them forthwith past the sacred gate and the -once frowning gatekeeper (now all smiles) to the outer courtyard. - -Scarcely had he left them and scarcely had they time to observe the -magnificence of the surroundings, when he returned, a few steps behind -his master. The latter suffered the usual elaborate salutations of the -East with visible irritation. - -“The king’s business, on which I go, requireth haste,” he told them, -thoughtlessly speaking in Syrian. “State thy errand in as few words as -possible that I may tarry but briefly.” - -The elder of the two, continuing to act as spokesman, bowed low before -the soldier, who was standing apart: “Thy speech is that of Israel and -thy master is not able to understand thy servants. I pray thee stand -near that thou mayest tell thy lord what thy servants say and tell them -what he saith.” - -A smile played round the soldier’s mouth. “Nay, for my mother, who was -of the Land of Israel, taught its tongue to my master, whom she nursed. -Say on and he will understand. Long hath Isaac’s people served the -House of Naaman.” - -“Isaac?” The question--or exclamation--was like the swift thrust of a -sword dividing friend from friend. The speaker drew back with hostility -in eye and voice. “Thou art Isaac?” - -The soldier wonderingly assented. - -“Then thou art he who hath brought us hither. Five years and more,” -sternly, “hast the captivity of a maid been on thy conscience, if thou -hast a conscience; a maid whom thy soldiers stole from Hannathon in the -Land of Israel.” - -Surprise, resentment, and then infinite sadness overspread Isaac’s -countenance. “Nay,” he said gently, “not five, but twenty-five, fifty, -an hundred, hath been the years of my remorse.” - -The travelers exchanged glances. - -“Then do we not need to be told how it hath fared with the maiden,” -said the spokesman, and turned his back upon the soldier, addressing -Naaman in the tongue of Israel. - -“Thy servants be Eli and Nathan, from the city of Hannathon in the Land -of Israel, and we have come to redeem out of thy hand this captive -maid, Miriam by name.” - -Naaman frowned, and he spoke slowly. “Thy words do I comprehend but not -thy meaning. ‘Redeem,’ thou sayest.” - -Out of his bosom Eli drew a piece of sheepskin, which he carefully -unwrapped, displaying two huge bracelets and a ring. - -“When these are weighed, my lord, thou wilt find that they are of -considerable value.” - -Naaman exchanged a look with Isaac and assumed an air of sternness. -“And when the truth is known thou wilt be found to have stolen them.” - -On the faces of the two young men was blank despair. “Say not so, -my lord. It is the product of five years and more of toil for us in -the fields and vineyards of Abner of Hannathon. Robbed of his flocks -and herds and his stores of oil and wine by the same hand which made -Miriam’s parents desolate”--he paused and cast a contemptuous glance at -Isaac, who winced as if he had received a blow--“naught had he left but -his land, so he agreed with us for wages, and the God of our fathers, -who heard the sighs of the maid in captivity, also prospered Abner and -us.” - -Naaman surveyed the jewelry appraisingly. “Five years’ wages for two -would scarcely equal their value. Thou hast obtained them by fraud. -Peradventure even now he for whom thou wert hirelings mourneth his -loss.” - -Genuinely distressed, tears came to the eyes of Eli. “Nay,” he said, -eagerly, “my lord misjudgeth his servants. Privation hath been sister -unto Toil and both have been sweet unto us for the hope wherewith we -were comforted. My lord can see that these be the hands of workers--” -he stretched open palms toward Naaman and commanded Nathan to do -likewise. “These are not the hands of those who live delicately on the -earnings of others.” - -Naaman surveyed their hardened and calloused hands, to which his -attention had been directed, but he saw yet more: their emaciated -appearance, their coarse clothing, above all, their earnestness, but he -seemed to find no words. - -Slowly Eli drew from his bosom another and yet smaller piece of -sheepskin and unwrapping it, passed it without speaking to Naaman. -The latter looked long and with surprise, examining it diligently and -commenting briefly. - -“It is a pearl of great price. It hath never belonged to thee.” - -“Never,” assented the spokesman. “It is a gift from Judith, kinswoman -to Miriam and wife of Abner, who considereth herself to blame for -Miriam’s capture. Loath was I to take it, but she besought me with -tears and we reflected that what might mean much to the maid was but a -little thing to Abner, so we hearkened to his wife.” - -The conversation was interrupted momentarily when Lemuel, bowing low -and with many apologies, crossed the courtyard hurriedly and whispered -a message in Naaman’s ear. With a hasty glance at the sun the great -captain turned to Eli. - -“Put up thy jewels into thy bosom. Very dear unto her mistress is the -maid, and the sum thou canst offer tempts me not. Nay, for I would tell -thee--” - -With one dismayed look at his brother Eli spoke again with calm -finality: “Then one thing more do we bring my lord, all that we have to -give. Let, I pray thee, thy servants remain as thy bondmen and let the -maid return to Israel and to the mother who yearneth for her.” - -The younger brother now advanced, prostrating himself and echoing Eli’s -request: “Let Nathan and Eli serve thee as thou seest fit, but let not -the maid remain in captivity.” - -Frank admiration beamed from Naaman’s countenance. “Nay, not as bondmen -shalt thou remain in this house, but as guests. Meat and drink shall -be set before thee and changes of raiment shall be brought. Thou shalt -see the maid and have audience with her mistress. Much of gratitude -and affection do we owe Miriam, and if it please my wife to let her go -into Israel, naught of what thou hast offered would we take, but a gift -should she carry in her hand. Already hath request for the maiden’s -freedom been made by my well-beloved servant, Isaac, and--” - -Toward the gate they had entered flitted a smiling maiden, attended by -an older woman and a maid servant. She stopped to pick a flower from -the courtyard garden. Two women passed and she spoke to each, not with -familiar chat, but with pleasant authority, both hurrying off to do her -bidding. As the three entered a chariot which was in waiting and to -which she was assisted with every mark of respect, she turned her head -and the visitors saw that it was the gorgeously appareled maiden they -had once supposed to be the daughter of the house. - -“Behold,” said Naaman, “the maid whom thou seekest. She goeth--” - -A rush of faintness caused Eli to lean heavily upon his brother. It was -not _this_ Miriam for whose sake they had toiled and suffered, but a -Miriam poor and abused and possibly degraded. Upon the stone floor of -the courtyard Eli fell. It was the tragedy of an unnecessary sacrifice. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -TIDINGS - - -Somewhere out on the Syrian hills a mother caressed her babe. “Awakest -thou, little one? Knowest thou that when thine eyes open it is as if -sunrise had come and when thou closest them again it is as sunset?” - -The exultation went out of her face, but the tenderness remained in her -voice. “To think, joy of my life, that thou shalt never know thine own -people! Never shall the eyes of thy father’s father or thy mother’s -mother behold thy sweetness and delight in thee.” - -The next words came with a low intensity like the fierce growl of some -mother-beast called upon to defend her young: “Always shalt thou be a -stranger in a strange land with not even memories, such as thy father -and I enjoy, to console thee. Scorn and misunderstanding and bitterness -of spirit shall be thy portion forever. O little son, dearly as I love -thee, how can I bear to see thee grow into manhood thus?” Her bosom -heaved and her eyes suffused with tears. - -She was startled by a long, low peal of thunder and a great gust of -wind which blew violently into the tent through the raised flap. With -the babe in her arms she went quickly to this opening, which served -as both door and window, and peered out anxiously. A few large drops -of rain were already falling, giving promise of the deluge which came -suddenly, even as she looked. For some reason the babe wrinkled up its -tiny face and began to wail. The woman, with a quick movement, let fall -the curtain flap and retreated from the entrance, soothing the child -meanwhile. - -“Nay, little son, it is not Rimmon, whom these Syrians sometimes -worship as the sun-god and sometimes as the storm-god. He is not, as -they believe, punishing his people for their sins, lashing them with -the fury of the storm. It is Jehovah, sending rain that grass may grow -upon the hills to provide food for his creatures. Surely, none knowest -better than thy mother that he is of tender mercy. Nay,” as the cries -grew louder, “weep not even for thy father. Long before thou and I -thought of rain he had sensed the storm and securely hidden his sheep -in some cave of the mountains where the forethought of the shepherds -hath already stored food for such emergencies. Skillful and tender -and watchful is thy father. The worst for us is that we shall have to -spend the night alone, so far from the sheepfold and the tents of other -shepherds. Shall we sit here, just within the door, where we can see -what passeth without, heart’s delight?” - -Suiting the action to the word she lifted the tent-flap a little and -peered out, uttering an exclamation. “It is hard to see through the -blinding rain and the wind, sweet one, but someone cometh.” - -Again she looked. “It is not sheep, and so I know it is not thy father. -Rather it seemeth like a chariot. Yea, it _is_ a chariot with horsemen -before and behind.” - -She clasped the babe to her in an agony of apprehension. “Only king’s -messengers ride with chariot and horsemen. They come in haste, as if on -urgent business. They will stop when they see the tent and seek shelter -from the storm. And thou and I alone!” - -Scarcely had she ceased speaking when she detected that the little -company was, as she feared, preparing to halt. The foremost horseman -dismounted and, approaching the tent, entered with an air of insolent -authority. The woman, face to face with her intruder-guest, drew back -in fear. He smiled triumphantly. - -“Twice,” he said, “nay, thrice hast thou escaped me. Once in the -gorge in Israel when thou fedest wild pigeons and knew not thou wert -observed; once as we journeyed toward Damascus, and again in Damascus -itself. Thrice had I thee in my power. Wert thou not _my_ captive? -Thrice hast thou escaped through the help of thy friend--peradventure -more than friend--Isaac.” - -The woman lifted her head proudly, resenting the sneer, a torrent of -indignant denials on the end of her tongue, but his manner immediately -became conciliatory: “Yet though the gods, who have ever been kind to -me, have brought thee into my hand once more, and there be no Isaac -near to secure thy release, thou hast no cause for alarm. Only speak -thou favorably of me to the maiden I have brought hither and all shall -be well with thee and with thy husband and babe. Refuse, and--” - -His words were cut short by the arrival of the rest of the party, -who crowded into the tent unceremoniously, but though the threat was -unspoken, the woman shuddered. It was as if personified Evil had -intruded into the sacredness of Home. Retreating as far as possible -into the dim shadows of the tent’s interior, she watched apathetically -the entrance of two women, heavily veiled. That they were persons of -importance was evidenced by the deference with which they were treated -by the soldier-escort, chief of whom was Lemuel. - -The older woman was speaking querulously: “Never should we have come to -seek those who are but wayfarers. Saidst I not to thee that only storms -and uncertainty would be our portion?” - -Her companion, evidently much younger, answered, soothingly: “Yea, -and many more discouragements didst thou prophesy, but said we not -that none of them should delay the message of joy we carry, for is -not Jehovah able to deliver us out of them all? See how he hath now -provided shelter for us.” - -Lemuel, dropping the tent-flap, which he had held as the two entered, -bowed deferentially to the last speaker: “Rightly hast thou spoken, -Miriam. Blessed be the name of Jehovah, as I learned in our recent -visit to Israel.” - -It was noticeable that the girl did not return the smile but drew away -somewhat coldly. The woman within the shadows suddenly recovered her -self-possession, noting that this was the tongue of Israel and not the -despised Syrian. Hastening forward she spoke those courteous words of -greeting which no Oriental householder would, under any circumstances, -omit, placing her services and her possessions entirely at the disposal -of the strangers and drawing the two females of the party into the -woman’s portion of the tent while the men made themselves quite at home -in the other and larger section. - -The younger traveler received these kindly ministrations of her hostess -with a wondering hesitancy. “Thou art not--thou canst not be--” she -began, then, throwing aside the drenched veil worn on the journey, she -peered intently into the face which could not be seen plainly in the -semi-darkness. - -“Thy voice,” she continued, “and what I can see of thy countenance--” -and then a glad cry rang out: “Thou _art_ she whom Milcah and I have -sought, lo, these many days. Thou art Rachel, wife of my brother -Benjamin. Blessed be the name of Jehovah, who hath brought us to thee -safely!” - -“Yea, blessed be the name of Jehovah!” piously echoed the men of the -party, but two of them exchanged glances partly amused and partly -sinister yet altogether significant. - -It was an evening of joy. After the tiny lamps had been lighted and -the wayfarers had eaten, Rachel listened to Miriam’s recital in amazed -incredulity. - -“That we should return to Israel when we had despaired of seeing our -kindred again! That our son should be reared in the land of Jehovah -instead of in this country of many gods! And that we should return as -thou sayest, not as those who flee from an enemy but with a gift in our -hand, the sheep that Benjamin loveth, nay, I have not heard aright. -Truly thy master is good unto thee and unto us. And thou wilt come -also?” - -For a moment Miriam struggled with emotion. “Nay,” she declared with -sad finality, “thou must know that since my master’s healing at the -hands of the Man of God, Jehovah only doth our household worship and -there be none to teach them his ways when I am gone. Besides, is it not -Benjamin and the flock which will be of most help to our parents? What -am I that I should ask more when I have already been granted much?” - -Her lip quivered and very unexpectedly she found herself weeping in -Rachel’s arms. The cords of captivity, however entwined with love, have -ever been found to cut the very heart-strings! The storm without almost -drowned conversation within and very early, sleeping mats were unrolled -in both sections of the tent, the lights were extinguished and silence -reigned. - - * * * * * - -All day long the same rain had dripped and drizzled upon the streets of -Damascus, driving its inhabitants to shelter. All day long the several -courtyards of Naaman’s house had been deserted and the two young men -from Israel, guests for several days under its hospitable roof, waited -in isolation and impatience for the interview they had been promised -with Miriam and her mistress. Instead, a servant had come with a -courteous message to the effect that the maiden was on a short journey -and Adah was indisposed, but it was hoped it would please them to abide -there for a time, and so they had remained. - -Some time during the night the wind changed and drove a fine spray -through the lattice, sprinkling the sleepers below and slapping them -in the face with its raw breath. Nathan sprang to his feet with an -exclamation of disgust, dragged his quilt-mattress to another and dryer -part of the room and was soon dreaming again that he was a soldier with -a commander who looked extremely like Isaac. - -Eli too arose, but with greater deliberation. Peering through the -lattice into the inky blackness without, he sighed. “Rain coming with a -quiet steadiness that seemeth to deluge my heart with its cold torrent. -Persistence hath the power of accomplishment. Already are the roads -washed out and a long winter must we remain in Syria before travel to -Israel will be safe or comfortable. And the mother, old before her -time, bent under the weight of misfortune like an olive tree before a -storm, can she endure? So different hath been our coming from all we -had planned! To find the maid well treated, even honored and beloved, -how it would hearten the mother could we but send her word! And -yet--what if Miriam should not wish to go?” - -Others there were in the House of Naaman who felt the wind’s rough -caress. Isaac, in no wise discomfited by the spray, as became a -soldier, merely moved away from the lattice, but drowsiness had fled. A -thought of Miriam came to him. She would be greatly disappointed that -she must wait throughout the long, wet months of winter, for when she -should learn that Eli had come, she would desire to start for Israel at -once. Now the rain had made it impossible and his heart was filled with -a great pity, even though her going meant more to him than he dared to -dwell upon. Perhaps, in all that great abode, Adah, its mistress, alone -felt pleased over the storm. Staring into space with wide-open eyes -for hours, she had listened to the rain’s gentle patter, listened with -a kind of fierce joy. - -“Until spring Miriam cannot go,” she whispered to herself. “Months -must she abide here. Blessed respite! But how can I spare her at all? -She who hath been the sunshine, the courage, the hope in our time of -darkness and distress. She who hath taught me to be happy as she said -she would. Ah, empty will be the house and dreary the days without our -little maid!” - - * * * * * - -For two days the storm expended its fury. The third dawned clear, and -a wind which threatened to tear down the tent dried the soaked earth. -The fourth found Benjamin, with his sheep, pushing forward with as -much speed as the safety of his flock would permit, anxious for the -welfare of his loved ones. He was surprised and delighted to greet -his unexpected guests, and with a joy scarcely less restrained than -Rachel’s listened to the wondrous tale his sister had traveled so many -miles to bring him. - -“But thou also shalt ask to go. Behold, is not the House of Naaman -indebted to thee?” - -Miriam shook her head. “There is no debt, but if there were, would it -not be more than repaid when thou and thy flock are restored to those -who need both? And thou wilt tell my mother that I have kept the Lord -alway before my face, even as she bade me promise.” - -The voice faltered, and Benjamin put an arm about her. “Be of good -courage, little maid. Thinkest thou Isaac will let thee weep for thy -kindred? Nay, but he will speak to his master and he to thy mistress, -and when we start for Israel in the spring thou shalt go also. Rest -thou in hope.” - -Miriam tried to smile and, saddened that the storm should have rendered -her errand futile, but rejoicing in the confidence it had inspired, she -lingered yet another day and took her departure. Almost at the last -moment Rachel drew her aside for a whispered word. - -“Put no confidence in this Lemuel who hath charge of thy party. Not now -can I explain, but I fear for thee if thou dost trust him.” - -Miriam nodded. “Isaac told me the same and wished greatly that I -wait until he should be well enough to bring me himself or spare his -servant, but the tidings seemed too joyful to delay.” - -Milcah, Miriam’s perpetual shadow, put in a word: “And so my brother -besought his master that I be allowed to come with the maiden, and -our mistress, who can deny her nothing, hastened the plans lest -disappointment befall her.” - -At a little distance Lemuel was talking confidentially with a fellow -soldier. “Pleased am I that our errand hath ended well,” he was saying. - -“Yea,” rejoined the other with a sneering smile, “pleased if it please -the maid and, better still, pleased if it please her master and -mistress, for very dear unto them is Miriam since Naaman’s healing. So -shall thine own schemes be furthered.” - -Lemuel frowned. “My creditors agreed to wait.” - -“And the gods, whom thou art always boasting have thee in their favor, -have given thee this opportunity. How much thinkest thou is the -treasure which hath been given to the maid?” - -But it was time for the little company to start back to Damascus and -with a sigh of relief Lemuel took his place at its head. He gritted his -teeth as, obeying his order, the man to whom he had been speaking took -a place in the rear. - -“Better were this Jehovah-worshiping maid than thy insolence,” he said -under his breath. “May the gods help me to find favor in the eyes of -the maid and most of all in the eyes of her mistress, who holdeth the -maid’s future and the maid’s fortune in her hands!” - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - -MEETINGS - - -In a guest-chamber of the House of Naaman Nathan hovered anxiously -around his brother. They had heard the happy announcement of Miriam’s -return, had seen the great house transformed into a scene of busy -festivity as if some honored guest were about to arrive, had even stood -at a distance and observed the bit of rivalry between the soldier who -had brought her hither and Isaac, who assisted her to alight from the -chariot into the arms of her waiting mistress, had noted the happiness -in her countenance and had turned away, sick at heart. Later the -servant who had been in almost constant attendance upon them had come -to name the hour when they would be conducted to Adah’s apartments, but -for the present they were quite alone. - -Eli spoke dully, his whole attitude one of extreme dejection: “Strong -were we to labor when we thought of the maid despised and ill-treated. -Sacrifice was as sweet to us as the cool air of morn. Joyful were we -as they who conquer in battle when we had this--and this--and this--” -touching the separate pieces of jewelry which lay in a glittering heap -beside him. “Enough and more did we deem them for her ransom, yet how -little it profiteth! All of her impressionable years have been spent -in the midst of such plenty, such riches as we in Israel knew not -existed save in kings’ houses. Nor hath she been required to labor. -Peradventure she scorneth toil. Her master refuseth to let her go, and -she would not wish to be redeemed even if we had sufficient gold to -purchase her freedom.” - -He regarded the jewelry at his side with disdain. “Take it, Nathan. Let -me never see it more nor speak thou of it to me. Wasted is our work, -ill-spent are our years, blasted are our hopes. It is as a pomegranate -tree which a man planteth in his vineyard and careth for, and lo, when -it might have borne, the frost killeth it.” - -He relapsed into bitter musings while his brother took the gold as -he was bidden and, wrapping it carefully in its sheepskin coverings, -put it in his bosom. Eli silently passed him the pearl, but neither -of them looked at it, nor did they observe a figure which approached -stealthily, peered through the partially opened door, and departed a -little distance, remaining near enough, however, to note the comings -and goings from that particular portal. - -Eli was speaking again in the same despondent tone: “Peradventure she -will have for us naught but contempt, and brought up in this heathen -splendor she may not even care to remember her home in Israel, nor the -mother who weepeth for her, nor the God of her fathers. Come, let us -return before her words and actions reveal to us this shame. In an hour -we are to see her, so the servant hath said. Let us hasten and depart -lest a greater sorrow be ours.” - -Nathan pressed him back into the seat from which he had risen. “Thou -art beside thyself with grief and disappointment. Nay, but we will see -the maid. We will tell her wherefore we are come. If she hath forgotten -aught she should remember, we will teach her gently and patiently as a -mother teacheth her babe, and we will plead for that mother whose heart -will break if we return with ill news. Nay, but we will quit ourselves -like men, and if there be blame, it shall be upon the maid and not upon -us. Do thou remain here while I step into the courtyard and see if the -servant cometh who is to conduct us to the apartments of her mistress. -Wait, I say, until my return.” - -And Eli waited. As Nathan crossed the threshold no servant was in -sight, and, attempting to shake off the gloom which weighed upon him in -spite of attempted cheerfulness, he walked slowly down the courtyard, -turned into an adjoining one and crossed to yet another before he -realized, with a start, that he was in unfamiliar surroundings. Lost -in thought, he had not noticed that he was followed. Now, halting in -confusion and seeking to recall how he had come, he was confronted -by a figure oddly familiar. There was neither formal salutation nor -friendly greeting, but only a look of insolent amusement. - -“So thou hast changed thy mind,” said the newcomer. “Once thou didst -refuse to remain in the company which would have brought thee straight -to this house. Five years later thou hast come of thine own free will. -Peradventure reflection hath brought wisdom, yet thou shouldst have -known it was dangerous.” - -Nathan was startled. The speaker continued. - -“Isaac knew thee not yesterday, but thou couldst not so deceive me. -Thou art the lad who once escaped out of his hand.” - -Nathan considered it prudent to appear fearless. “Thou art Lemuel,” he -said, slowly, “the soldier who captured Miriam and me in Israel.” - -“Thou hast guessed rightly,” went on the other. “I am Lemuel, who -forgetteth neither friend nor foe. One word from me to my master, -Naaman, and thou wouldst indeed serve as bond-servant, not willingly -but by right, for wert thou not fairly taken in war?” - -Nathan determined upon escape, but the watchful Lemuel laid a detaining -hand upon his shoulder. “Yet I may not speak that word, or, speaking -it, may soften the tone with a gift. Thou canst procure thine own -ransom more easily than the maiden’s. The same gold intrusted to me for -my master--” he paused to give the better effect to his words. - -Nathan was distressed. - -“Or the pearl,” went on Lemuel, “and it may require all. Thy fate is in -thine own hands. Come, what sayest thou? Which shall it be, thy freedom -or thy gold? Thou hast not long to debate the matter. Thinkest thou I -know not that the treasure is even now in thy bosom?” - -Nathan gave the speaker a quick glance of anxiety. How could he know -that? - -“Come,” continued his tormentor, “what is the word that I shall speak?” - -Before the now thoroughly frightened lad could frame a reply, Isaac -stood before them. Frowningly he addressed himself to Lemuel. - -“I will carry the word to our master, the word that a guest in his -house hath been intimidated and an attempt made to rob him of his -possessions. I will not soften it, neither will he.” - -Lemuel held up a deprecating hand. “Thou art too harsh. Thou dost not -remember that the lad was a prisoner, taken in open warfare. Should he -not purchase his ransom?” - -Isaac replied by a look, one long look of scorn and indignation, and -Lemuel departed, failing miserably to maintain his old-time swagger. -Isaac watched him, his lip curling. At last he turned to Nathan. - -“Hadst thou intrusted thy treasure to him, never wouldst thou have -seen it again, nor would my master have known of the matter. Guard it -and thyself as well.” - -Nathan stammered his thanks, wondering the while if he had not been -delivered from one peril but to fall into another. He braced himself -for the ordeal. - -“The man hath spoken the truth,” he confessed, bravely. “Five years -hath made a change in my appearance, but look thou steadily upon my -countenance and thou wilt see that I am the lad who escaped out of -thine hand. Behold, it is revealed. What owe I thee?” - -The soldier regarded him with the same frank admiration as had Naaman -on the day previous. “Thy courage is equal to thy resourcefulness -and independence of spirit. What a soldier thou wouldst make! Not at -first did I know thee, but soon did thy brother’s words bring thee to -remembrance. Naught owest thou, for didst thou not guard and guide the -maiden, Rachel, who was very dear to a friend of mine, a man to whom I -owe my very life? Nor have I any claim upon thee after this lapse of -time and we at peace with Israel and grateful because of the healing of -my master by thy great prophet. Nay, fear not, but go in peace.” - -Nathan would have gone instantly and with joy had he known the way, -and so it came about that once more was he indebted to the soldier -against whom he had cherished resentment for five long years. In -the guest-chamber Eli had awaited his brother’s return in profound -melancholy. The servant came to conduct them to the apartments of -Miriam’s mistress just as Nathan and Isaac reached the threshold, but -Eli sat still. - -“Why go?” he asked, mournfully, in reply to Nathan’s sharp -remonstrance. “If we find, as seemeth likely, that the maid hath chosen -to forget all she should remember: Israel the land of her birth, her -mother and her home, and more important than all else, Jehovah her God, -how could we carry the tidings which would be sharper than a sword to -the heart of her mother?” - -Isaac regarded the speaker with surprise. “Hadst thou dwelt long -in Damascus,” he said, “thou wouldst have heard that so far from -forgetting Israel and Jehovah, the maid hath remembered with profit to -the House of Naaman. The wonder of it is on every tongue.” - -He recounted his master’s cure at the hands of the prophet, ascribing -the suggestion to Miriam and praising her persistency. “In gratitude -for this healing,” he went on, “Naaman and his whole house have since -worshiped only Jehovah, the God of Israel, at which the maid greatly -rejoiceth.” - -Eli’s face glowed. “Sayest thou so? Upon coming to Damascus we first -sought Ezekiel to obtain news of Rachel and to see if she knew of -Miriam. Finding him long since dead and Rachel married and somewhere -out on the hills with Benjamin, her husband, who is a shepherd, we then -sought thee, fearing to mention Miriam’s name or to betray our errand -lest obstacles be put in our way or our treasure stolen. From Amos, -seller of perfumes, did we learn that one, Isaac, wast in the service -of Naaman at this house. From thee we hoped to learn of the maiden’s -whereabouts. Later we heard that an Israelitish maid, Miriam by name, -was also here, so we sought to speak to the master.” - -He paused, gazing at Isaac with a strange mixture of diffidence and -resolution. “We came,” he went on, “thinking of thee as an enemy to be -approached with cautious dread. We find thee a friend to whom we are -much indebted.” - -Nathan nodded, telling briefly his experience just past and joining -his thanks to Eli’s, but Isaac waved aside the praise and, dismissing -the servant, himself conducted them to the apartments where they were -expected. Miriam was nowhere in sight. Adah listened languidly while -Eli earnestly pleaded his cause, Nathan, as usual, in admiring silence. -Isaac paced the courtyard without. - -“And so because her master, thy husband, refuseth to accept a ransom,” -Eli supplicated, “even though we have offered to become servants in her -stead, I have determined to ask of thee a gift--the gift of the maid to -her mother, who yearneth for her.” - -Restless under those burning eyes, jealous for the reputation of her -own household, she addressed him haughtily: “The same request hath -already been preferred by Isaac, and although the maid is dear unto us, -yet to-day hath she been told that she is not bound to the House of -Naaman save by the cords of affection. When the rainy season is over, -she is to go with her brother and his family, together with his flocks -and herds, back to the Land of Israel, in the care of a captain and -horsemen. Behold, before thou camest thou hadst thy desire.” - -Cutting short Eli’s bewildered expressions of gratitude, she dispatched -a servant in search of Miriam. To the waiting ones, it seemed hours -before she came, although in reality it was but a few minutes. It was -her fifteenth birthday and she was glowing with happiness, smiling -radiantly upon the little world inside the walls of Naaman’s house. - -Adah claimed her attention: “Another gift, little maid, an unexpected -one: tidings from thy home in Israel brought by these two young men. -Dost thou know them?” - -Miriam turned, scanning their faces eagerly. Nathan smiled and Eli -began to speak, but she interrupted with a joyous cry: “Eli! Nathan! -How tall thou art grown! And how didst thou ever find me? But how glad -I am, how very glad! Tell me, my mother and my father--” - -It was the same Miriam Eli had last seen in Israel. Out in the -courtyard Isaac heard the joyful greeting and through the partly opened -door his eyes encountered Adah’s, looking past the young people. She -beckoned him to her side for a whispered word. - -“I fear the little maid will no longer be _our_ little maid.” - -The words were spoken in so low a tone he scarcely caught them, but -they might have been shouted and Miriam and her visitors would not have -heard. Isaac watched for a moment the little group so absorbed each in -the other and sighed. - -“Yea,” he admitted, sadly, “we have lost our little maid and thou and I -will sorrow most.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - -ISRAEL - - -Once more it was spring. Once more were the rains over and the air -balmy and the water courses quiet so that sheep might pass them and -not be afraid. Once more were faint paths made across the sands of the -wilderness and the stony hillsides by caravans large and small, abroad -on errands of business or pleasure, and once more did the House of -Naaman pass a restless night, for on the morrow Miriam was to depart -for her beloved Land of Israel. - -Roused from happy dreams, she could not understand for a moment the -medley of confused but pleasurable sensations which surged over her; -then she remembered clearly. Eli had come long months ago to take her -back to things as they used to be, back to her mother and father--nay, -with a rush of tears, not her father. Never again would she see that -fond expression in his eyes, never again hear his kind voice, never -again look upon his dear face. And her mother, old and broken, she was -told. She could not realize it. Yet soon would she clasp that mother -in her arms; soon see her and know for herself. To-morrow Isaac’s band -would give the captives in Syria safe conduct, Rachel and the babe -riding in the chariot beside her, and Benjamin leading his sheep before -them. And all through this time of waiting Eli had been here: Eli, who -had suffered with and for her, who had toiled and sacrificed and then -found it had been in vain. Oh, Eli was so wonderful! - -In another part of the House of Naaman he of whom she thought was also -awake, a little smile on his lips, a little thrill in his heart. To -have found her unchanged and unspoiled in the midst of all this heathen -luxury! To have found her beautiful and true and sweet! To have thought -that he toiled for the sake of the mothers, not knowing it was for -Miriam, not understanding that there was just one maiden--only one! - -But nights have a way of ending, and dawn came as radiant as Miriam’s -countenance when the household thronged around the altar which had -been erected in one of the more private courtyards immediately after -Naaman’s return from Israel. In appearance it was merely a raised mound -made of ordinary Syrian soil upon which had been spread the “two mules’ -burden of earth” he had begged from the Man of God. Thus hallowed -by the sacred earth from the locality in which Jehovah was supposed -to especially delight, it was considered a fitting place for the -burnt-offering which Naaman himself piously sacrificed each morning. - -This accomplished, the worshipers kneeling in petitions more or less -heartfelt, they rose and the service closed with a psalm of David, -painstakingly taught by Miriam to the household singers. To-day the -hymn concerned itself with the wonders of nature, not in and for -themselves as did the psalms of the sun-worshipers, but extolling -Jehovah as Lord over nature. - -Miriam’s voice led: - - “The heavens declare the glory of God, - And the firmament showeth his handiwork.” - -The chorus responded: - - “Day unto day uttereth speech, - And night unto night revealeth knowledge; - There is no speech, there are no words, - Neither is their voice heard. - Yet is their line gone out through all the earth, - And their words to the end of the world.” - -Miriam’s voice again: - - “In them hath Jehovah set a tent for the sun,” - -And the chorus once more: - - “Which is as a bridegroom coming out of his chamber, - And rejoiceth as a strong man to run his course. - His going forth is from the end of the heaven, - And his circuit unto the ends of it: - And there is nothing hid from the heat thereof.” - -At the close of the service Eli had speech with Miriam for a moment. -“They go now,” she told him, “to the House of Rimmon, where the old -King Ben-hadad leaneth for support upon the hand of his well-beloved -servant, Naaman, my master. Isaac attendeth upon him. Thou wilt wish to -go to see for thyself this sun-worship while I wait upon my mistress -ere we depart.” - -“Always thou hast refused to go,” Isaac reminded, seconding the -invitation, and Eli, after a little hesitancy, consented. - -Lemuel, with a smile meant to be friendly, joined the group as Miriam -hastened away. “Once more hath Rimmon, our sun-god, vanquished the -darkness and started his victorious journey across the face of the sky, -but whether it be Rimmon, god of Syria, or Baal, god of Phœnicia, or -Jehovah, God of Israel, let each worship according to the custom of the -land, say I.” He lowered his voice. “But didst thou think that Naaman -would risk the favor of the king by importing a different God for -worship at his private altar?” - -Isaac sprang to his master’s defense. “It proveth the generous kindness -of the king, and is but what might be expected in gratitude for healing -at the hands of Jehovah’s prophet. Did not Naaman speak to Elisha, who -refused to condemn his faithfulness to his old master, the king?” - -Half an hour later they were all in the large and splendid Temple of -Rimmon, the pride of Damascus architecture and decorating. It was -beautiful with flowers, the air heavy with incense. Eli noted the -service, burdened with ceremony, the reverence during the sacrifice -of the burnt-offering, the earnestness of the murmured prayers, the -spreading out of the hands in formal attitudes of supplication, the -general singing of hymns of praise. Even the lewd dancing of the sun -virgins filled him with pity rather than horror. - -He spoke his mind to Miriam as he rode beside the chariot that -afternoon on the way to Israel. “To be so sincere yet so mistaken; to -go from the altar of Jehovah to the Temple of Rimmon; to turn from the -true God to the false; to have none to show them a better way! Nay, -thou couldst not be reconciled to dwell in this heathen land.” - -For some reason Miriam resented his half-pitying, half-complacent -tone. The quiet which had possessed her since the tearful farewells at -Naaman’s gate suddenly forsook her. “The daybreak, Eli, how cometh it, -suddenly and with the noise of a trumpet or silently and by degrees, -one faint radiance succeeding another until all is light?” - -It was a moment before he caught her meaning. “Yea, I see,” he said, -glowing with admiration, “and _thou_ hast led this household to its -first, faint gleam--the gleam which shineth more and more unto the -perfect daybreak.” - - * * * * * - -In the most splendid house of the “city” of Hannathon, the house with -the courtyard which Judith had so coveted, Abner addressed her, a -little frown on his forehead: - -“One field after another have I added to what I already had. Anxious -enough were our neighbors to sell and remove hence when the Syrian raid -left them hungry and desolate and afraid. For almost nothing did many -part with their possessions. And now the best vineyard of them all, -that held by Sarah, widow of Caleb, I cannot buy because thou dost -withhold the pearl which I might offer as surety for payment in full -when the grapes be gathered in the fall. So obstinate is a woman! Long -hath Sarah held the land and offer after offer hath she refused, saying -the vineyard be all of her living save a few olive trees. Now, with Eli -gone, a price hath been agreed upon, but she demanded of me a pledge. -Come, give me the pearl.” - -Judith’s eyes besought him piteously. “I cannot,” she faltered. - -He smiled unpleasantly, quite misunderstanding the reason for her -hesitancy. “Because it is Sarah, who hath shared her home with thee? -Because she is old before her time and sick? Because thou thinkest I -offer her too little? Five years ago thou wert ready to leave her roof -for mine. Hath she treated thee better than I?” - -Again Judith’s eyes spoke, this time with a flash of indignation. -“Never hath she treated me well. Grudgingly always did she offer me a -home. Daughter that I have been to her for the past five years since -Miriam was taken away, never doth she look _at_ me but always _through_ -me. My services are acceptable but not myself. Never doth she let me -forget that I am of strange people. It was Caleb, husband of Sarah and -brother to my father, who was ever my friend.” Her voice broke, but in -a moment she went on more steadily: “What I do for her is in memory of -him and of the little maid who loved me.” - -“I see,” he declared, his eyebrows drawn together until they made one -line: “So it is because I refused help to that visionary, Eli, who -desired a gift toward the maid’s ransom, that thou dost revenge thyself -upon me by withholding the pearl. As if he would find trace of her! As -if he would want to find what he would find! Thinkest thou a little -maid would be safe in the midst of a rough soldiery? Thinkest thou -the cruel Syrians would deal gently with a child? Nay, but when Eli -returneth with a tale too pitiful to tell a sorrowing mother--” - -Judith interrupted, her words coming chokingly: “When Eli failed to -secure thy help, I besought thine aid for Miriam, adding my tears to -his, thinking thou wouldst understand and sympathize, thou, a sorrowing -father, who had himself lost a little maid, a maid so tiny and so -sweet, stolen by Death, not by the Syrians--” - -She turned her head and a sob escaped her. There was absolute silence -in the apartment. Abner cleared his throat. - -“Thou dost evade the question. Come, acknowledge the truth. Thou dost -revenge thyself upon me by withholding the pearl.” - -“Nay,” returned Judith, “I would scorn to avenge myself upon thee. -I--I--have lost the pearl.” - -He looked at her in amazement. - -“And I feared to tell thee lest thou be angry,” she added, not looking -at him. - -He strode across the room and took her face between his hands, striving -to read her expression. Something he saw there dictated his next words: - -“Unless it had been stolen from thee, small chance hast thou had to -lose it. Nay, but thou dost deceive me. Speak without fear. What hast -thou done with the jewel?” - -She hesitated. “I lost it,” she reiterated. - -Storm clouds gathered on his face and the tempest broke in fury upon -her: “Thinkest thou to deal doubly with me and yet find confidence and -affection? Nay, but truth will I have from thee, else this home is no -longer thine. Speak! What hast thou done with the pearl?” - -Judith meditated. To confess while he was in that mood was to find -neither understanding nor approval. She would wait until his heart was -more tender toward her. - -“I have lost it,” she repeated, sullenly, and cowered as he came toward -her. - -Laying a rough hand on her shoulder he pointed to the door: “Go thou -and enter not again until truth be thy companion.” - -Shaking off his hand she faced him. Not a word did she utter, but the -look he never forgot. In a moment she had passed out of the door into -the sun-kissed air, divorced by the one word which an Oriental husband -may speak at any time to the wife of whom he has tired, and which even -a Jew occasionally spoke in defiance of Mosaic law. - - * * * * * - -At the top of the hill which crowned the Valley of Jiptha-el, a woman -bent and worn sat patiently on the coarse green grass under the shade -of a wild fig tree. As Judith appeared she addressed her without -salutation and without taking her eyes from the path. - -“Day after day, from sunrise to sunset, have I stayed here, waiting for -Eli to bring them back to me. Yet if they were coming, would they not -have been here a month ago? Early were the rains over and long hath -travelers been passing the mouth of the valley, but they for whom I -wait come not.” - -Her voice had in it that note of calm endurance which belongs to those -who have suffered. Judith, observing her in the strong sunlight, -thought she had never looked so frail. - -“To-day and to-morrow and the day after will I wait,” went on Sarah, -“and then--” she put her hand over her heart--“then if they come not, I -will know he hath not found them and I think I cannot wait longer.” - -Judith was startled out of her own sad musings. “It is the first time I -have heard thee hint at surrender,” she said, reproachfully. “Nay, but -be of good courage. What if they should come later?” - -“If they come after I am gone,” was the answer, the worn hand still -over the tired heart, “tell them I waited as long as I could, as long -as the pain would let me. Tell Eli that I say his faithfulness hath -never let me feel the lack of a son, and tell Miriam that no one could -take her place, but that thou, like a dear, elder daughter, hath filled -a corner in my heart all thine own.” - -Judith stared incredulously. “Thou canst not mean--” she began, but -Sarah went on, unheeding the interruption: - -“Strange that the maiden I could not welcome should have been my stay -and comfort these five years and more! And tell Benjamin, my beloved--” - -Judith brushed away the tears: “Oh but thou dost not know the wrong--” - -Sarah was shading her eyes with her hand: “What meaneth that cloud of -dust in the valley?” - -“Sheep,” declared Judith with a careless glance. “Why, if I had ever -known that thou hast even thought of me kindly--and thou couldst not -if thou knewest--” - -“A flock of sheep larger, yea, twice as large as Benjamin tended,” -commented Sarah. “See, the shepherd turneth them aside into the old -sheepfold which hath not seen the like since the Syrians swooped down -upon us so long ago. And a band of horsemen and a chariot! Thinkest -thou the king’s messengers come this way? But why the flock escorted by -soldiers?” - -She turned a wondering face toward Judith, but her question was -answered when a tall youth and a maiden, the first of the party to -reach the top of the hill, paused to take breath after the steep climb. -With true Eastern hospitality Sarah rose and tottered feebly toward -them. A moment more and Eli’s voice sounded in her ears and Miriam’s -arms were around her. Another moment and Benjamin was bending over her. -She looked in bewildered fashion from one to the other as if scarce -comprehending. At last she smiled upon them. - -“Judith,” she called, “Judith, come thou. My children must be all -together,” and closed her eyes with a little sigh of contentment. - -“Then Rachel must be here also,” said Benjamin, drawing her toward him -as she held the babe. - -“And Nathan too,” put in Eli, taking his brother by the arm. - -Among them all they carried Sarah to her old home and, without one -backward glance, the happy, chattering group entered, leaving a lone -figure upon the hilltop. - -It was a strange sight to be seen in Israel, that soldier in splendid -Syrian dress, lingering there. He noted the village straggling up -the unpaved street, the tender green of growing things in the valley -beneath, the low cloud of dust hovering over the sheepfold. Memory was -likewise busy. He recalled Miriam’s joy in Eli’s coming to Damascus, -her unwonted gayety since they had started for the Land of Israel, her -present absorption in her mother. Yet could aught else be expected? -Reasoning with himself, excusing her, striving to stifle the pain of -her thoughtlessness, he descended the hill to the encampment of the -soldiers. - -“Yea,” he said mournfully to himself, “we have lost our little maid,” -and then, again, with heart-sick despair, “_I_ have lost _my_ little -maid.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - -WAITING - - -In the House of Abner the usual household scenes mocked the sorrowing -man who beheld them. “Empty, empty, empty!” he moaned. “My Rose of -Sharon have I plucked from its stem and cast aside. Ah, woe is my -portion!” - -Striding down the village street long before the morning mists had -faded, he paused in front of Sarah’s house, thereby startling a -beautiful girl in foreign raiment who had just stepped over the -threshold and surprising himself scarcely less. Then he recalled the -conversation of his excited servants the day before, tidings which had -been unheeded in his own grief. This must be Miriam! - -“Nay,” she replied to his question, “my mother and I are quite alone. -Very early this morning did Benjamin take Rachel and their little son -to the house of her parents, whom she saw but briefly yesterday. Eli -and Nathan soon afterward took the path down the hill to the camp of -the soldiers, and Judith departed likewise. Nay, I know not where.” - -He was hastening away when she ran and prostrated herself in his path. -“My lord hath been good to his servant. I thank thee for the pearl -which thou didst send to Syria by the hand of Eli for my ransom.” - -Abner listened dully. “A pearl, thou sayest?” And then the significance -of her speech dawned upon him. “Rise thou,” he commanded, suavely, “it -was but a small gift. Happy am I that it hath helped to purchase thy -freedom.” - -A tenderly reminiscent smile played around Miriam’s mouth. “Nay,” she -said, “I have returned to Israel because of a jewel more precious than -any found in earth or sea: the love of my master and mistress. Naught -would they accept but gave me freedom and sent me to my mother with a -gift in mine hand.” - -“But the pearl,” inquired Abner, eagerly. “What hath become of the -jewel?” - -“Eli hath already given it back to Judith, from whom he received it,” -she answered, and with cool adieux turned and left him. - -He passed a hand over his brow, made as if to turn back, hesitated and -then went on, groping his way down the hill and through the fields, -wet with the night dews. The camp of the soldiers, so busy a scene at -sunset, was now deserted, and huddled over the still warm ashes of what -had recently been a fire was the figure he sought. - -“I--arrived--too--late. They--were--already--gone,” she said, slowly, -in response to his excited inquiry. - -Abner laid a shaking hand upon her shoulder. A crimson flush crept into -the pale cheek. Rising suddenly she wrenched herself from his grasp and -thrust something into his hand. “Take it,” she cried. “I should have -known thou wouldst have followed me even to Damascus to get it back. -Lo, thou hast that which thou seekest,” and turning, she fled. - -He glanced hastily at the object she had given him. It was the pearl. -With sudden passion he threw it into the unsearchable depths of the -canyon and swiftly followed Judith, but a loose stone ended the -pursuit. With a cry of pain she stumbled and fell, and when he bent -over the prostrate figure a moment later her eyes were closed. It was -Eli who answered Abner’s hail and helped him carry his burden up the -hill. Stopping for a moment’s rest they met Miriam on her way to the -spring. - -With anxious questions and practical sympathy the girl knelt beside -her cousin, slipping off the sandal and examining the rapidly swelling -ankle. “Straight to my mother’s house,” she suggested. “It is so near,” -but Abner objected. - -“To her own home,” he commanded, sharply, preparing to resume his load. - -Judith’s eyes flew open. “Nay,” she protested feebly. “Thou shouldst -know that truth is not my companion nor hath ever been. I stole the -pearl. It is that for which Caleb, brother to my father, was slain, and -which Sarah, who hath been a mother to me, cast away in her despair. I -found it and used it to serve my own ends. Then, when it had long been -a coal of fire in my bosom I gave it to Eli to help with the little -maid’s ransom. Yet sin reapeth sorrow as surely as harvest followeth -the time of sowing. Because of the pearl my husband hath divorced me, -and lest my disgrace be known to those to whom it would bring grief, -I determined to use the jewel to purchase my way to Damascus with the -soldiers.” - -Miriam’s amazed look encountered Eli’s stern one. “I knew not,” he -began, but Miriam was stroking Judith’s forehead and speaking tenderly. -“Always hast thou been unhappy in Hannathon, for wast not thy sadness -mine? Yea, but come thou. Behold, our home is thine also.” - -“Nay,” said Abner with decision, “we take thee to thine own house, -thine and mine. As for the pearl, I knew not it belonged to Sarah. I -hated it for the trouble it hath caused thee and me and just now I -flung it into the gorge.” - -Eli gasped. “But thou wilt pay,” he insisted. “Its value shalt thou -redeem, that the widow and the orphan be not robbed.” - -Miriam was quite as decided. “Nay, it hath ever been an evil thing, -and with the gift sent by Naaman my master, my mother will not miss -the pearl. Rather would she wish it counted dead now that it hath been -buried. Her anxiety will be for Judith. Take her to our house, I pray -thee.” - -But he would not and the little procession resumed its slow march to -his abode. - -An hour later Miriam remembered the abandoned water jar, and bidding -her cousin an affectionate farewell, hastened to reclaim her forgotten -property. The sun had finally conquered the fog and sweet-scented -breezes played with her hair, but the sight of Eli, dolorously gazing -into the distance, hushed the song in her heart. - -He broke the news without preamble. “Nathan hath returned to Damascus -with the soldiers.” - -The water jar came near crashing to the earth in Miriam’s consternation. - -“Oft have we talked of our future plans now that thou art provided -for,” went on Eli, sure of understanding, “but only this morning, when -we visited the camp, did he tell me of his resolve. Then I could not -say him nay, knowing that here he must work for Abner, whom we like -not, and I was the more persuaded when Isaac, chief of the band which -brought us on our way, promised to be surety for the lad.” - -Miriam was staring wild-eyed into the valley at their feet. “Gone, thou -sayest? The soldiers gone? And Isaac came not to my mother’s house, -came not to tell me that he goeth--” - -Eli nodded impatiently. “Thinkest thou he would have said more to thee -than to me? A likable young man and one in whom remorse hath kindled -the fires of penitence which alone purifieth. He hath restored thee to -the home from which thou wert stolen, and he saith that when the rains -are over and the roads passable once more he will return to see if thou -dost wish to go back to Damascus. As if thou wouldst again be bound by -the cords of bondage!” - -But Miriam was half-way down the hill, sobbing bitterly, leaving Eli to -gaze after her in great and growing bewilderment. - - * * * * * - -The same sun which had kissed into bloom the wild flowers of Israel -shone with dazzling brightness upon the white walls of Damascus, -warming youth into gayety and age into contentment, but its rays were -futile to coax into cheerfulness the great House of Naaman. There -was an inexplicable sense of loss. The maid servants grumbled among -themselves at the uncertainty of Milcah’s temper and longed for Miriam, -their ever-sympathetic mediator. The men servants hoped they would see -her bright face again. - -“Not that she ever had much to say,” explained the old gatekeeper, “and -few were the smiles she had for the young men, as most maids have, but -the lowest servant and the grandest visitor were alike to her. Well do -I remember--” and the garrulous tongue would run on as long as it had -an audience. - -Nor were the servants the only ones who missed Miriam. With light -fingers Adah smoothed the creases from between her brows. “The maid -servants drive me frantic,” she moaned. “‘Do I want this?’ and ‘how -will I have that?’ The little maid would have known without asking and -seen that it was done without confusion. My heart yearneth over the -maiden.” - -The soldier standing respectfully on the other side of the room nodded. -“The young man Eli, to whom I talked long, saith that the mother -faileth fast. Peradventure Miriam will be free to return to Syria if -she so desire.” - -Adah’s irritation increased. “The young man Eli! Admire him I must, -but like him I cannot, for would he not rob thy master and me of the -sunbeam which hath gladdened our hearts--the little maid we have come -to love as a daughter? Nay, but not for always. One year, Isaac, shalt -thou remain in Syria, then shalt thou return to Israel with a gift in -thine hand, bringing Miriam and her mother gently and by slow degrees -if the woman be feeble. Here shall the household delight to do her -honor. One year, Isaac, from the time our little maid went away shall -she come back to us!” - -With this decree of its mistress, the House of Naaman entered, with -what patience it could, upon its period of waiting. - - * * * * * - -But Miriam did _not_ return at the end of a year. The wild flowers -faded in Israel; the figs ripened and were gone; the hills grew bare -and yellow under the sun’s persistent glare; the grapes turned dusky -and filled with liquid sweetness; the olive trees blossomed and bore -and were denuded; the rains came and went; barley and wheat were sowed -and matured and were harvested and wild flowers bloomed a second time -in Israel. It was another spring, the time Isaac had said he would -come, but though Miriam strained her eyes day after day gazing afar, no -foreign horsemen, no chariot, no Syrian camels bestirred the dust of -the Valley of Jiptha-el. - -Rachel touched her lightly on the shoulder as she stood in the doorway. -There was yearning tenderness in the older woman’s tones: “Still -waitest thou, little maid? Peradventure they think thy mother hath need -of thee, knowing not that she sleepeth long months in the sepulcher of -thy people. Ample time hath there been since the rains ceased to take -even the long journey from Damascus.” - -Miriam turned a musing countenance. “But when Isaac talked last with -Eli he said he would return when the rains were over to see how it -fareth with me and to bring me tidings of my home.” - -Rachel sighed and drew the girl close. “Is not thy mother’s dwelling -‘home’? And behold how Benjamin and little Caleb and I have loved thee. -Are we not dearer than any in the House of Naaman?” - -Miriam smiled and returned the caress. “The love light in thine eyes -is beautiful and it filleth me with delight when it shineth upon me, -but mostly doth it shine for thy husband and babe and for joy in thy -home, not for thy sister.” - -“It is the way with a woman,” was the answer, “as some day thou wilt -know for thyself, for I have seen a look in eyes that followed thee, -such a look as a man giveth to but one maid, though peradventure thou -knowest--” - -She paused, but as there was no reply and Miriam’s face was turned -away, she hurried on: “And so thou wilt soon have a home of thine own -if that is what thou desirest.” - -Miriam at last found voice: “‘Home’ is where thou art needed, Rachel, -where thou hast a place no other can fill. Here in Israel, now that my -mother hath left me--” there was a choking pause--“I am not necessary -as I am to the household in Syria. Milcah groweth feeble in body and -impatient in mind. The maid servants resent her sharpness, and my -mistress is distressed when things go not well. But most of all do -they need help to walk in the way of Jehovah, for him only do they -serve since the healing of my master at his word. So do I wait until -my mistress sendeth. Nay,” as Rachel affectionately protested, “nay, I -shall not be disappointed, for did not Isaac say he would come?” - -And so she waited. Again the wild flowers faded and the figs ripened -and the hills grew sere and brown. It was midsummer. This time a -pilgrim approached Hannathon, but he was alone and on foot, taking the -steep hills and fertile vales with an easy, swinging stride as none but -a Highlander, born and bred, could have taken them. From the flat roof -where she was spreading linen to dry, Miriam saw him while yet a great -way off and called to Rachel exultantly: - -“Eli cometh.” - -She did not go to meet him. Instead, she hastily descended the stairs -and retreated within the house, excitement in her manner and an -unwonted color in her cheeks. When he entered, though they spoke only -commonplaces, neither of them observed that Rachel took the child and -slipped quietly out of the house with a smiling glance backward. Quite -absorbed in each other, they sat on one of the low benches which lined -three sides of the room. - -“Two years hath it been, Miriam, since I joined myself to the young -men, the Sons of the Prophet. Two full years have I hung upon the words -of our great master, Elisha, learning much concerning our Law and its -interpretation, and things of lesser importance such as music and -sacred poetry. Thinkest thou not my mother would be pleased to know -that I am of this company, even as was my father?” - -The girl’s face was glowing with enthusiasm. “It is as thou and I have -dreamed from childhood, Eli.” - -“A little while shall I spend with thee and with Benjamin, for I have -a mind to learn the care of a flock. Then, with the treasure not needed -for thy ransom will I purchase sheep and goats, which will supply my -living while I preach the word of Jehovah to this froward people. -Beyond that thou knowest--thou must know--my heart’s desire.” - -He took her hand in his and although it trembled slightly it was not -withdrawn. - -“I think there will be no objection from thy brother, for long hath -he known me, so I shall speak to him in due time without dread, but -concerned am I to know if thou wouldst be satisfied so to spend thy -life.” - -Her face paled under his anxious scrutiny, “Nay, I could not,” she -faltered. - -He was silent a long moment, and when he spoke his voice betrayed -profound sorrow. “It is even as I feared. In Damascus, where thy -impressionable years were spent, thou hast learned the luxury which -belongeth alone to kings’ courts. Thou wouldst not be willing to toil -as do the women of Israel, where there is neither man servant nor maid -servant. Have I not been in Syria and do I not know how different are -the ways there and here?” - -She disengaged her hand and faced him earnestly: “Not because of its -riches, Eli, must I return to the House of Naaman, but because of its -poverty. Except through me they know not Jehovah.” - -“And except we of prophetic vision teach him in Israel, the people are -altogether turned unto idols,” he answered, in his eyes the fanatical -gleam of the zealot. - -“Yea, but there be many Sons of the Prophet in Israel. There be none -in Syria. Save as tidings of the healing of my master hath been -scattered abroad and praise given to the God by whose hand it was -performed, none knoweth Jehovah. He is merely the God of Israel, their -sometimes-enemies in the south, and Rimmon and Baal and a host of -others are more real to them. Come thou with me to Damascus, where -thou art needed, and instead of a shepherd, thou shalt be a scribe, -and being diligent in the business of Naaman, thou shalt also instruct -the household and preach the word of the Lord to those who know it not -otherwise. Say thou wilt come,” she pleaded, but he only gazed at her -pityingly. - -“I pray thee, Miriam, deceive not thyself. For more than a year hast -thou waited for a messenger from Syria and grown pale and thin with -disappointment. Rachel hath told me, and have I not seen for myself -when I came to visit thee? Nay, for if one were coming, there hath been -time and to spare.” His brow clouded. “Yet had I hoped to hear from -Nathan through that same messenger. Both thou and I didst trust the -soldier, and thou more than I.” - -The color sprang again to Miriam’s cheek. “My trust will not be in -vain,” she declared, quietly. “Something of ill hath happened in -Damascus, else my mistress would have sent, but Isaac will yet come.” - -The conversation was interrupted by Rachel’s entrance, and Miriam, -making an excuse of the linen on the roof, ran quickly up the stairs to -a task which consumed a vast amount of time even in the leisurely East, -where time counted for little. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV - -ANTICIPATION - - -Once again Isaac stood before Adah, mistress of the House of Naaman. He -bowed low. “Everything is in readiness for our departure to Israel. The -caravan waiteth without the gate and the maid servants thou art sending -to attend upon Miriam are at hand, but lest thou shouldst have some -last instructions for thy servant--” - -Adah briefly acknowledged the courtesy and the courtier. She was -thinner than of old, there was more of gray in her hair and the lines -were deeper between her eyes. Now she rested her head upon her hand in -the languor so becoming and so habitual. - -“Only that thou shouldst bring the maid and her mother,” she answered, -“with any others she may not care to leave behind. If she will but -come, for she is free to choose, as thou knowest! Thou takest a present -in thine hand. Bring the maid safely, but in haste, for she is dear -unto me.” - -The messenger bowed his understanding of his orders, but the lady was -not through with the conference. She continued, musingly: “Two years -since she left us, Isaac, and one since we had confidently planned for -her return. It hath been a long, long year, full of alarm and anxiety -for us and of waiting for her. _If_ she hath waited! Miriam is now -at an age when maidens dream romantic, vagrant dreams of mating. Oft -in the night seasons have I lain awake wondering if, in despair of a -Syrian messenger, she hath betrothed herself or possibly married”--the -speaker shuddered--“some Israelitish youth who would not be at home in -Damascus or the House of Naaman. As thou knowest, Syrian ways are more -gentle and their speech less rough than those of Israel.” She paused, -evidently expecting some comforting assurance that her fears were not, -could not, be true. - -“But the tones of love are as soft in one tongue as in another, and -when interpreted to a maiden’s willing heart they are softer still,” he -said, gently. - -She was exasperated at his answer, not knowing what it had cost him. - -“Miriam gave promise of beauty,” she continued, “and Syrian lovers will -she have in plenty, especially when it is known that the favor of the -House of Naaman goeth with her. Already one, hoping to be the first, -hath asked her of me in marriage.” - -The start which Isaac gave was not lost upon Adah, but she affected -blindness. - -“Thou knowest him well. It is thy friend, Lemuel.” - -The young soldier was visibly agitated. He prostrated himself before -Adah, entreating her attention: “And if thy servant hath found favor -in thy sight grant that this sacrifice shall not be. Always hath the -maid feared and hated the man and with good cause, as we who know him -can testify.” - -He hesitated before making a second request: “No man liveth who is good -enough for her, but almost am I persuaded that she would rather be -given into my care.” - -Adah repressed a smile. “I shall give Miriam to someone more to my -liking and to hers than is Lemuel, but I had not supposed thou wouldst -have taken advantage of the maid’s childish expressions of fondness for -thee to weave into them meanings she could not then understand.” - -Isaac’s cheek flushed under his soldier tan. “I have not, my mistress, -and I would not. A thousand times hath she innocently told me that -which I long to hear her say with full knowledge of its import.” - -His manner changed to sadness. “Yet do I know that always she hath -carried in her heart the image of Eli, and that she was greatly touched -by his desire to ransom her from what he supposed was cruel slavery. He -hath the soul of a saint and the mind of a seer, while thy servant is -naught but a soldier. I fear that when I reach Hannathon it will be to -find her choice hath already been made and needeth but thine approval.” - -Adah frowned. “Thy master’s plans cannot be lightly changed. This is -a childless home and its treasure is great. We are not unmindful of -the two through whose loving devotion much of its happiness hath come. -Already hath thy master divided between thee and Miriam the present -which the prophet of Israel refused, and seeing thy tender affection -each for the other, we have determined that when the maid is old -enough she shall be given thee in marriage. Thus shall the joy and -contentment of both be assured, and thou shalt be unto us in our age -and helplessness as the pillars are to the temple.” - -The maid servant who was fanning her mistress gasped audibly, for -which indecorum the sorely displeased Adah sent her hastily and in -disgrace from the room, but the punishment rested lightly. Once outside -the angle of vision of those within, feet and tongue were nimble in -disseminating this surprising bit of news. Only Milcah, exacting and -irritable, did the excited servants fear to approach. The tidings -spread, however, not only within the gate but without, and provided a -choice bit of gossip for the caravan, impatiently awaiting its leader. -Two of the company failed to receive the message with the laughing -approval of the others: over the sensitive face of a boy passed a look -of surprise, and the man next to him smiled an evil smile. - -Meanwhile Isaac had stammered his thanks and had again become a -suppliant: “But if it please not the maid, my mistress, I pray thee to -entreat thy husband that he transfer his favor to the young man Eli. -I think there can be no other in Miriam’s thoughts. Thou wilt find him -worthy, and in the maiden’s joy thou shalt have thy reward.” - -Adah was frankly amused. “Thou dost plead well to be released. -Peradventure some other maiden--” but the look on his face checked the -suggestion. - -“Not for admiration of Eli do I speak, but for love of Miriam,” he -declared. “The circumstances in which I would have brought another -maiden to the House of Naaman could not be justified in the pure eyes -of my little maid.” - -“Then am I sure that thy master’s confidence hath not been misplaced,” -she answered, softly, “and a maiden’s unruly heart is not always wise. -Nevertheless, do thou bring the young man if it seemeth right unto -thee. I trust to thy discretion, and when I have had time to talk to -Miriam and to observe for myself, I shall be better able to judge what -is best. Only go thou quickly and delay not.” - -Left alone, Adah laughed quietly to herself. “If Miriam had the eyes of -experience, she would prefer the good-looking young soldier who loveth -her unselfishly to the gifted young fanatic who loveth an ideal more -than any maid. I shall not compel her choice, but her master will like -not the idea of sharing the treasure of the House of Naaman with a -stranger.” - -Quite unexpectedly Milcah bent over her, having entered the apartment -unobserved while her mistress mused. “Didst thou wish something? I -thought I heard thee speak. That worthless maid I sent in here an hour -ago hath not wit to do aught save curl her hair and make eyes at the -men servants.” The woman wiped away a tear and continued, speaking -unsteadily: “The caravan hath just started. Many a time have I seen my -brother ride to war and cared less, but to-day it seemeth so joyful it -is almost solemn.” - -All at once the peace-loving Adah felt a vague uneasiness, dreading -the unpleasantness of Milcah’s disapproval. Clearly she had a duty of -preparation. - -“But if Isaac should ever think of marrying--” she began, but only to -be promptly and tearfully interrupted: - -“Say not so, for I should hate his wife. Never a maid have I seen save -our little Miriam that I could regard with sisterly affection, and he -would never think of the child _that_ way.” - - * * * * * - -Up the Valley of Jiptha-el in the heat of midsummer dashed a lone -horseman. No anxious watcher from the roof heralded his approach, -but every echo sought to imitate his wild shouts. The village was -surprised, alarmed, but comforted when the horseman was discovered to -be Nathan--reckless, jubilant, noisy, the veteran of one war and a -braggart. In a single breath he poured out greetings, exclamations, -comments and all the gossip of Damascus. - -Isaac was coming, but just this side of the Jordan he had been obliged -to make camp with a sick soldier, Lemuel by name, so he (Nathan), -unable to wait, had pushed on alone. Danger there was (his manner -became very self-important), but what of that to one who had faced the -hordes of the desert? Last year when the fruit trees first blossomed -around Damascus, its peace and prosperity had been threatened by the -half-wild tribes who roamed the desert to the east; beautiful, rich, -lonely Damascus, whose stoutest walls were her walls of living men, her -soldiery! But it had held, thanks to Naaman, Captain of the Host, who -was respected and adored as no other man in the city. - -It was the younger men who had showed most valor. Once he (Nathan) had -been surrounded by five dark-skinned, savage enemies. Making ready his -sling he was taking aim and would have slain them all had not Isaac and -his servant interfered. He bore them no malice, but when Isaac realized -that they had not been needed he had given him a horse all his own. -Fine horse it was with dainty feet and fiery spirit, Isaac’s share of -the spoils of battle, but he would probably never miss it. Everybody -knew he stood high in favor with the House of Naaman. He might in time -be chief steward and rich. - -This spring not a desert chieftain had dared even to gaze upon -Damascus, but there were rumors that the Assyrian hosts came nearer -and nearer. Not a soldier was allowed to leave the city. Day and -night a watch had been maintained and every fighting man stood ready, -but the Assyrians tarried. Pity, too! It would have been glorious to -engage in battle with the finest army in the world. But no enemies -having appeared by midsummer and scouting parties reporting the danger -past for a time at least, Isaac had been allowed to take a small band -into Israel to render the journey to Syria safe for Miriam. No doubt -he would wish to hurry back, for was he not going to be married? The -tidings had been scattered abroad the morning they had started. Nay, he -knew nothing more. - -All at once Nathan realized that his speech had been undiplomatic, and -hastily turned his attention to Hannathon. Eli was taller and thinner -than ever. He ought to be a soldier and properly fed. A good fighter he -would make too. Miriam had become amazingly pretty. If she found there -was no one to marry her, he would be willing. She looked something like -Rachel did before she faded out so. How was Benjamin? He would ride -out to find him after a while, for would he not want to see the horse? -And how the little boy had grown! Who would have supposed that such a -sturdy, bright-looking youngster could have developed from that ugly, -stupid baby? The village was just the same; very unexciting after -Damascus. The only new thing was the house. So the old was not good -enough, and they had built one like those in Syria! Well, they were -more comfortable. How sad that Sarah had not liked it! She might have -lived longer if she had not been obliged to change her ways to suit -those who had learned better. - -But Eli must come and look at the horse he had left at the foot of the -hill. He knew his master and he had a trick-- Still talking, Nathan -descended the path with Eli while Rachel and Miriam returned to their -grinding at the mill, Rachel smiling and chatting, but Miriam strangely -unresponsive. And once again a shadow darkened the doorway. With -respectful salutations Lemuel stood upon the threshold, seeming not to -be affected by the frigid greeting he received. He had merely pushed on -ahead of the party, he said, desiring earnestly to see the maid whom he -had missed sadly. Her mistress would explain why he felt he had a right -to do this. (Miriam shrank from his bold gaze.) - -Isaac came more slowly, seeming, in fact, to be in no haste to arrive. -When he _did_ come he would have news. Rumor said he was soon to be -married, but since he refused to talk on the subject it was taken to -mean that the matter had been arranged by his master’s decree rather -than his own preference. Not even the name of the maid was known, -which was further evidence that he was not proud of her. It was -not unlikely that his choice centered elsewhere, but that might all -be gossip. Certainly, it was beneath a man’s honor to bear tales of -his friend, and he and Isaac had long been comrades. Well, Isaac was -handsome and in favor with the rich and powerful House of Naaman, so -maids there were in plenty who would be glad to unite their fortunes -with his. - -The speaker may have felt the chill with which his tidings were -received or his errand may have been finished. At all events he took -his departure. Rachel watched him from the door, shivering the while. - -“Let us sweep the house,” she suggested. “I feel as if a serpent had -uncoiled itself in our midst,” but Miriam said nothing at all. - - * * * * * - -Screened from observation by the bushes down in the gorge, Lemuel -examined a wounded foot. “Cursed be those thorns,” he grumbled, “but -it is worth it even though I had to leave my horse. Lucky that I -remembered the cross-cuts of our scouting days in Israel! It hath -helped me to repay Isaac for many long-cherished grudges.” - -He glanced at the sun and uttered an exclamation. “I had better be on -my way to Damascus by the time he findeth that I have tricked him.” - -Near at hand an animal whinnied and Lemuel’s eyes brightened. A few -moments later, where the path led into the valley road, a horse and -its rider dodged quickly behind a clump of trees to avoid being seen by -a caravan at the head of which rode Isaac, and that afternoon Nathan -searched sorrowfully but in vain for his steed of the desert. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI - -CERTAINTY - - -A trifle shyly Miriam stood in the doorway awaiting Isaac, who was -coming alone up the hill. One look into his face as he came nearer, -with eyes only for her, and both her hands were outstretched, but Eli -pushed past her, speaking low: - -“I pray thee, Miriam, let us greet the man with becoming dignity. -Behold, have I not been as a son in thy mother’s household and in -Benjamin’s absence is it not my place to welcome its guests?” - -The girl laughed happily. “Why, it is only Isaac. He would think it -strange if I delayed to meet him and I am so glad, so very glad, he -hath come.” - -“But he may misunderstand thy eagerness, Miriam.” Eli’s tones were -somewhat stern. “Remember, thou art no longer a child.” - -Miriam stopped short, reddening painfully. “Isaac hath never -misunderstood,” she retorted. - -Nevertheless, when he took both her hands in his she was for the -first time unable to meet his gaze frankly. He found it very charming -and in some circumstances it might have been encouraging, but he had -seen, if he had not heard, and now put his own construction upon the -degree of understanding between herself and Eli. With a heavy heart -he noticed that Eli acted as host, a right not only undisputed but -apparently expected by both Rachel and Miriam. From this he drew -further disquieting conclusions, which were not contradicted by the -conversation he was allowed with Miriam herself. - -She asked innumerable questions about the household at Damascus, but -there was not half time to answer fully. She told him a great deal -about her mother’s last days and very little about herself. Far too -little to satisfy him. She called his attention to the new abode, -built on the site of the old with the gift she had brought from the -House of Naaman. Her mother had never found the dwelling comfortable. -It had seemed too luxurious to have those low and wide benches on -three sides of the room for sitting and sleeping, and she was uneasy -about the animals, banished to quarters in the courtyard. She had -felt more secure to have them at night on the unfloored portion of -the same apartment. But the new house was much prized by Benjamin and -Rachel, and since they preferred to remain in Israel to be the stay and -consolation of Rachel’s parents, Miriam was glad they would have the -comfort of a home like those in Syria. - -The gift Isaac had just brought--such a generous present from her -beloved master and mistress--should be used to purchase a larger flock -for Benjamin and thus secure a greater income. Then she spoke of her -plans for Eli (she and Isaac were alone for a few minutes), plans -which he heartily approved because it would please her. She talked with -a pretty hesitancy and with such an evident gratitude and admiration -for Eli that Isaac’s worst fears were confirmed, yet he could not bring -himself to ask a question direct. He would wait a few days and observe -for himself, and he was comforted to an extent by the fact that she -desired to return to Damascus. He had hardly expected such willingness. - -Finally, Isaac and Eli and Rachel and Miriam together decided that -the journey to Syria should not be undertaken for a week. Isaac -particularly wished to see Benjamin, and a week would give Miriam time -to say her farewells without haste. Also the soldiers would be grateful -for a rest in the shade of the mountains. The midsummer heat of the -roads they must travel was anything but pleasant, but circumstances -had granted them no choice. As Miriam watched him depart, the virus of -Lemuel’s remarks began to be active in her brain. Isaac was evidently -not in any hurry to return to Damascus! - - * * * * * - -It was the morning of Miriam’s departure and she and Rachel, from the -doorway, were watching the sun rise. - -“Thou art so pale, Miriam. Thou dost not have to go. Hast not thy -generous master freed thee? I shall miss thee every day.” - -“And every day will I think of thee, Rachel, and of Benjamin and -little Caleb, and wish we could all be in the same country rather than -separated.” - -“But I am better satisfied to know that Isaac is going to be married,” -went on the older woman. “His wife will be like a sister, taking my -place to thee.” - -There was no answer. - -“Why--why--Miriam,” with a bewildered little laugh, “wouldst thou have -me think--why, art thou not glad, too?” - -“Nay,” answered the girl, “I like not to dwell upon the thought. Have -I not always been first to him, next after his duty to his master? And -now how greatly is he changed! A week hath passed and he hath never -mentioned the maiden’s name nor even told me he is to be married. If it -be thus now--” - -Rachel was aghast. Her tones were pityingly severe: “Thou hast no -mother, Miriam, and I must speak plainly for thine own good. Isaac took -thee into captivity out of no malice. Thou wert one of the spoils of -war. Afterward, when he knew thou wert sister to Benjamin, the man who -had befriended him, he was sorry and tried to be kind, but remorse is -not love. Thou must not expect it of him.” - -The girl turned a face as pink as the sky. “I go to the sepulcher,” she -said, and slipped hastily out of the door--to confront Eli. - -It was a pale and scandalized Eli, but he spoke quietly: “I will go -with thee, for doth not my mother lie there also?” - -Halfway down the hill they met Isaac and Benjamin in earnest -conversation. Isaac intercepted the pair: “The caravan is ready. The -start awaiteth thy pleasure.” - -“In an hour,” Eli returned, briefly, but Miriam answered not at all, -nor even raised her eyes. - -As they plodded on, Isaac turned sadly to Benjamin: “I fear my question -is already answered.” - -Benjamin put a sympathetic hand upon his shoulder. “Then for many -reasons would I be sorry,” he declared, “yet peradventure the maiden’s -mistress will not let her make such a mistake.” - -Not until they neared their destination did Eli speak to Miriam, then -he burst forth with a vehemence which awed her: “Could _he_ come with -thee to this sacred place? Canst thou share thy holiest memories with -him? Nay, for well thou knowest that our two mothers lie here because -of the wounds he inflicted.” - -“Say rather ‘the wounds of war,’ Eli. Isaac hath repented of his part -and hath made such restitution as he could. Should we count it as -naught? I think our mothers would forgive, and doth not our Law require -it?” - -Eli continued as if he had not heard: “Tidings did I hear in the camp -that thy mistress was to give thee to him in marriage, but because -thou hast filled my heart did I believe I was in thine. I did not know -thou wouldst prefer the servant of the rich man, who hath manners which -belong to a king’s court, who is clothed in fine linen and fareth -sumptuously every day. I thought not thou wouldst despise the preacher -of Jehovah, whose lot will be a far country and coarse apparel and -scanty food and the contempt and ridicule of the multitude. Thou didst -tell me that it was duty which called thee to Damascus. I have just -learned that it was the voice of thy beloved. Nor would I have believed -had I not heard from thine own lips through the open door.” - -Miriam lifted her head a trifle defiantly. “What thou sayest is as if -it were in an unknown tongue. The tidings thou hast heard have not -reached mine ears, nor can it be true when well I know that it would -not be to his liking.” Her tones were bitter. The poison of Lemuel’s -remarks was still at work. - -She went on more calmly: “Never have I thought of Isaac as thou hast -described him but only as the friend in whom I could safely trust, -who was never amused like my mistress nor impatient like Milcah nor -indifferent like everyone else.” - -“But friendship is not love, Miriam. Thou must not think it.” - -Suddenly he took her in his arms. “Thou art mine,” he cried, fiercely. -“Long ago thy mother gave thee to me. Neither Isaac nor any man shall -take thee from me.” - -He drew a long, sobbing breath, gazing at her with a face so full of -tragic sorrow she was appalled. - -“I owe thee so much--so much, Eli,” she whispered, contritely. - -“He shall not _take_ thee,” repeated the young man, “but I shall go -with thee to Damascus to preach the word of Jehovah as we have said, -and when the time cometh I will _give_ thee to him if it pleaseth thee.” - -Releasing her not urgently he strode away. She stood still for a -moment, then she called after him, her voice sweetly compassionate. She -begged him to tarry, but he seemed not to hear, and after a little she -followed him to the sleeping place of the dead. - - * * * * * - -It was not a cheerful party which started that day to Syria. Farewell -tears were thinly veiled under encouraging smiles. Miriam was so -obviously considerate for Eli that Isaac was plunged into the depths -of despondency. Eli himself seemed lost in painful reverie. Nathan, -obliged to ride the horse Lemuel had not had opportunity to take, -loudly bewailed his own better steed, while the soldier-escort, under -its breath, cursed the merciless rays of the sun. - -Hour after hour they journeyed. Through dim eyes Miriam beheld a -fleeting picture of the hilltop villages and scattered groves of -her beloved Israel. Here and there they passed other travelers and -infrequent beggars. Once, the chariot in which Miriam and her two maid -servants were riding came to a sudden halt. Apparently there was some -obstruction in the road ahead. A leper, hurrying away, was yet near -enough for her to look upon his repulsive countenance. Shuddering, she -turned to see if Eli or Nathan had noticed, but they were busy helping -the soldiers conceal a loathsome something with a light covering of -earth. The leper was Gehazi! - -Isaac rode up with an explanatory word. He pointed to the mound: “It is -the deserter, Lemuel. Some wild beast hath met him at night while he -slept and where there was none to help. The body is gnawed and broken, -but there can be no mistake.” - -Nathan called excitedly and Isaac responded at once. A little -later they returned with Nathan’s own horse, which had broken his -halter--doubtless through fright--and roamed at will until reclaimed -by his master. For half an hour Miriam listened indulgently to the -boy’s enthusiastic recital of the capture and the steed’s wonders, then -Nathan took a place in the rear. They descended the hot gorge in which -roared the Jordan, crossed its foaming waters, emerged into the freer -air of the uplands and so to the main-traveled roads leading north. -Nathan was again beside Miriam. - -“I have been watching the party for hours,” he declared with a -boisterous laugh. “Funny how it rides. The soldiers plod along -silently, sometimes jesting or quarreling. Obeying is their business. -Never once hath Eli turned his head. Already he seeth himself a prophet -of the Lord in the strange land toward which he goeth. But ever Isaac -watcheth thee, and always thine eyes are turned toward Eli.” - -As they resumed their journey after the noon-time rest it was Isaac who -rode beside the chariot. He put into her hands a piece of sheepskin, -folded protectingly over something evidently very precious. - -“Once,” he explained, “when thou wert but a little maid and knewest not -the meaning of such things, I bound these damson blossoms upon my heart -in token of loving devotion to thee. They have withered, but that for -which they stood has never died. I cannot suppose”--with an involuntary -glance at Eli--“that thou wilt treasure them as I have, but it is thy -right to know.” - -Without waiting for an answer he dropped back to his old position. A -long time Miriam stared at the blossoms, then, with tenderest care she -folded them in their sheepskin covering and put them in her bosom. He -was at her side instantly. - -“Thou dost not count them as naught, Miriam?” - -“Love is not friendship, Isaac.” - -The thrill he had experienced suddenly died. It was a moment before -he could answer in the old, matter-of-fact way. “Then it were only -selfishness, Miriam. If it be not friendship, then it is not love -either, for love is friendship intensified, glorified.” - -She was silent. After some hesitancy he spoke again, this time with -quiet determination and in the speech of Israel, which they had used -before so that the maid servants might not understand. - -“The hour hath come, Miriam, when I must tell thee what thy mistress -hath said and ask thee for the truth.” He told her briefly the plans -Adah had outlined to him. - -She made no comment. - -“But because thou wert free in Israel and but a servant in Syria I have -wondered if thou art sacrificing thyself to give advantages to Eli.” - -The answer was very faint. “Nay, Isaac.” - -“Thy sense of duty is strong, Miriam, and thou art necessary to the -happiness of the household in Damascus, yet because thou hast cherished -the token which hath meant so much to me I almost thought--peradventure -because I so wished it might be--” - -She did not speak for so long that he peered under the awning, -beholding a face that crimsoned as it looked into his and in the eyes a -something which lit his own with rapturous hope. - -“I could not be content to be free when thou wert still in bondage, -Isaac.” The tones were very low, very sweet, very hesitant. - -“Miriam,” he gasped, “thou canst not mean--thou dost not--” - -But evidently she did, for the two maid servants exchanged smiles and -meaning glances, and he continued to ride beside the chariot while they -drew near to Damascus and the glad welcome of the House of Naaman. - - - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[1] “A short sword buckled to the belt or girdle.” - -[2] A _timbrel_ was an instrument similar to our modern tambourine. -A _tabret_ was the progenitor of our modern drum, though smaller. -_Cymbals_ were the same to which we are accustomed. - -[3] It is impossible to translate into modern terms the exact value -of the treasure Naaman took into Israel, the figures of different -authorities varying greatly, but none estimate it at less than $60,000, -and some vary much more. At all events, it was considered a worthy and -even a generous gift. - -[4] Some authorities claim that at this period Syrian arms were -renowned because she had repelled even mighty Assyria. - -[5] In this age, deities were supposed to favor localities or peoples; -there was no conception of a God other than one who was local or -national. - - - - -TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES: - - - Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_. - - Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. - - Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN NAAMAN'S HOUSE *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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