{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_26094/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_26094","id":"gutenberg_26094","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/26094","summary":null,"tags":["Bible. Old Testament -- Fiction","Biographical fiction","Category: Historical Novels","Jews -- History -- Fiction","Judas Maccabaeus (Judah Maccabee, \u05d9\u05d4\u05d5\u05d3\u05d4 \u05d4\u05de\u05db\u05d1\u05d9)"],"text":"Produced by Al Haines\n\n\n\n\n\nHEBREW HEROES:\n\n\nA TALE\n\nFOUNDED ON JEWISH HISTORY.\n\n\nBy\n\nA. L. O. E.,\n\n\n_Author of \"The Triumph over Midian,\" \"Rescued from Egypt,\"\n  \"Exiles in Babylon,\" &c. &c._\n\n\n\n[Transcriber's note: \"A. L. O. E.\" is the pseudonym of Charlotte Maria\nTucker, and is the abbreviation of \"A Lady of England\".]\n\n\n\n\nLONDON:\n\nT. NELSON AND SONS, PATERNOSTER ROW;\n\nEDINBURGH; AND NEW YORK.\n\n1870.\n\n\n\n\nPreface\n\n\nThere are few portions of the world's history which, to my own mind,\nafford subjects of such thrilling interest as that which I have\nselected for the groundwork of the following story.  I have tried, in\nthe main, to adhere closely to facts, though I have ventured somewhat\nto compress the length of time which actually elapsed between the\nrising against Syrian tyranny at Modin, and the restoration of the\nTemple.  I may also have been inaccurate in representing Antiochus\nEpiphanes as being still in Jerusalem at the period when the battle of\nEmmaus took place.  Such trifling deviations from history seem to me,\nhowever, by no means to interfere with that fidelity to its grand\noutlines which an author should conscientiously observe.  No historical\ncharacter has been wilfully misrepresented in these pages.  If I have\nventured to paint one of the noblest of Judah's heroes with the\nfeelings and weaknesses common to man, I trust that even his most\nenthusiastic Hebrew admirer will not deem that they lower his dignity\nas commander, or patriot prince.\n\nThe exploits of Judas Maccabeus might seem to be a theme more befitting\nthe pen of one of his own race than mine; yet would I fain hope that a\nwork which it has been a labour of love to a Christian to write, may\nnot be altogether despised even by the descendants of Hebrew heroes who\nshared the Asmonean's toils and triumphs in the land for which he\nconquered and died.\n\n\nA. L. O. E.\n\n\n\n\nContents\n\n\n       I.  FAITHFUL TO THE DEATH.\n      II.  THE MIDNIGHT BURIAL.\n     III.  LIFE OR DEATH.\n      IV.  FOLLOWING BEHIND.\n       V.  THE DREAM.\n      VI.  THE JOURNEY HOME.\n     VII.  THE FIRST STRUGGLE.\n    VIII.  HADASSAH'S QUEST.\n      IX.  DEATH OF MATTATHIAS.\n       X.  CONCEALMENT.\n      XI.  DEEP THINGS.\n     XII.  TRIALS OF THE HEART.\n    XIII.  SILENT CONFLICT.\n     XIV.  A CRISIS.\n      XV.  THE TWO CAMPS.\n     XVI.  BATTLE OF EMMAUS.\n    XVII.  DEPARTED.\n   XVIII.  THE PASSOVER FEAST.\n     XIX.  A PRISON.\n      XX.  THE COURT OF ANTIOCHUS.\n     XXI.  THE MAIDEN'S TRIAL.\n    XXII.  A BREATHING SPACE.\n   XXIII.  FOUND AT LAST.\n    XXIV.  DECISION.\n     XXV.  A RETROSPECT.\n    XXVI.  WEARY WANDERINGS.\n   XXVII.  FLIGHT.\n  XXVIII.  UNITED IN THE GRAVE.\n    XXIX.  THE MOURNER'S HOME.\n     XXX.  CHANGES.\n    XXXI.  NIGHT TRAVELLING.\n   XXXII.  FRIENDS OR FOES?\n  XXXIII.  THE LEADER AND THE MAN.\n   XXXIV.  FANATICISM.\n    XXXV.  THE BATTLE-PRAYER.\n   XXXVI.  BETHSURA.\n  XXXVII.  AFTER THE BATTLE.\n XXXVIII.  THE VICTOR'S RETURN.\n   XXXIX.  THE FEAST OF DEDICATION.\n\n\n\n\nHEBREW HEROES.\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nFAITHFUL TO THE DEATH.\n\nThe sun was setting gloriously over the hills which encompass\nJerusalem, pouring its streams of golden light on the valleys clothed\nwith the vine, pomegranate, and olive, sparkling on the brook Kedron,\ncasting a rich glow on flat-roofed dwellings, parapets, and walls, and\nthrowing into bold relief from the crimson sky the pinnacles of the\nTemple, which, at the period of which I write, crowned the height of\nMount Zion.  Not the gorgeous Temple which Solomon had raised, that had\nlong ago been given to the flames, nor yet the Temple as adorned by\nKing Herod: the building before us stands in its simple majesty as\nerected by the Hebrews after their return from Babylon under the\nleadership of Zerubbabel and Jeshua.  Not the might of the powerful,\nnor the gold of the wealthy, but the earnest zeal of a people\ndown-trodden and oppressed had built that Temple; and its highest\nadornment was the promise which Haggai's inspired lips had uttered:\n_The Desire of all nations shall come, and I will fill this house with\nglory, saith the Lord of hosts_ (Hag. ii. 7).  _The glory of this\nlatter house shall be greater than that of the former_ (Hag. ii. 9).\n\nThe fulfilment of that promise was still a subject for faith; and\nseldom had faith had to breast a fiercer storm of persecution than that\nwhich was sweeping over God's ancient people at the time when my story\nopens, about 167 years before the Christian era.  The Roman had not yet\ntrodden the soil of Palestine as a conqueror; but a yoke yet more\nintolerable than his lay on the necks of the sons of Abraham.\nAntiochus Epiphanes, king of Syria, one of the most merciless tyrants\nthat ever existed, bore rule in the city of David.  He had deluged the\nstreets of Jerusalem with blood, he had plundered and polluted the\nTemple, offered the unclean beast upon God's holy altar, and set up the\nimage of Jupiter Olympus in the place dedicated to the worship of the\nLord of Sabaoth.  It was a time of rebuke and blasphemy, of fiery\npersecution against the one pure faith; and if some shrank back from\nthe trial, other Hebrews showed that the spirit of Shadrach and his\nbrethren still lived amongst the people of Judaea.\n\nOn the evening which I am describing, a young man was wandering among\nthe clumps of hoary olive-trees which shaded a valley on the eastern\nside of Jerusalem.  The red sunbeams pierced here and there between the\ngrey branching stems and through the foliage, and shone full on the\nfigure of Lycidas the Athenian.  No one could have mistaken him for a\nHebrew, even had the young man worn the garb of a Jew instead of that\nof a Grecian.  The exquisitely-formed features of the stranger were\nthose which have been made familiar to us by the masterpieces of\nantiquity treasured in our museums.  Lycidas might well have served as\nmodel to Phidias for a statue of Endymion.  His form was of faultless\nproportions, remarkable rather for symmetry and grace than for\nstrength; and his face might have been deemed too feminine in its\nbeauty, but for the stamp of intellect on it.  That young brow had\nalready worn the leafy crown in the Olympic contest for poetic honours;\nLycidas had read his verses aloud in the arena to the critical ears of\nthe Athenians, his fellow-citizens, and thousands from other parts of\nGreece, and had heard their plaudits ringing through the air at the\nclose.  That had been a proud moment for the youthful Athenian, but his\nambition had not been satisfied by this his first great success.\nLycidas was his own severest critic, and regarded himself as being\nrather at the starting-point than as at the goal.  He had resolved on\nwriting a poem, the fame of which should emulate that of the Iliad, and\nhad chosen as the theme of his verse THE HEROISM OF VIRTUE.  Lycidas\nwould draw his pictures from history, choose his models from men, and\nnot from the so-called deities with which superstition or fancy had\npeopled Olympus.  The Athenian had an innate love of the pure and true,\nwhich made him intuitively reject fables, and which, amongst his\ncountrymen, exposed him to the charge of scepticism.  Lycidas could\nlaugh with Aristophanes at legends of gods and demigods, whom their\nvery priests represented as having more than the common infirmities and\nvices of mortal men.  Had Lycidas reared an altar, it would have been\nlike that which was seen two centuries later in his native city, with\nthe inscription, To THE UNKNOWN GOD.  The Greek knew of no being above\nearth whom he could intelligently worship; and his religion consisted\nrather in an intense admiration for virtue in the abstract, than in\nanything to which his more superstitious countrymen would have given\nthe name of piety.\n\nTo collect materials for his poem on THE HEROISM OF VIRTUE, Lycidas had\ntravelled far and wide.  He had visited Rome, then a powerful republic,\nand listened with keen interest to her annals, so rich in stories of\npatriotism and self-devotion.  The Athenian had then turned his course\neastward, had visited Alexandria, ascended the Nile, gazed on the\nPyramids, even then--more than two thousand years ago--venerable from\ntheir antiquity.  After seeing the marvels of the land of the Pharaohs,\nLycidas had travelled by the way of Gaza to Jerusalem, where he was now\nresiding.  He was an occasional guest at the court of the Syrian\nmonarch, to whom he had brought a letter of introduction from Perseus,\nking of Macedonia.\n\nIt was not to indulge in pleasant poetic reveries that Lycidas had on\nthat evening sought the seclusion of the olive-grove, if the direction\nof the current of his thoughts might be known by the index of his face,\nwhich wore an expression of indignation, which at times almost flashed\ninto fierceness, while the silent lips moved, as if uttering words of\nstern reproof and earnest expostulation.  No one was near to watch the\ncountenance of the young Greek, until he suddenly met a person richly\nattired in the costume worn at the Syrian court, who came upon him in a\nspot where the narrowness of the path precluded the two men from\navoiding each other without turning back, and so brought about a\nmeeting which, to the last comer at least, was unwelcome.\n\n\"Ha! my Lord Pollux, is it you!\" exclaimed Lycidas, with courteous\nsalutation.  \"I missed you suddenly from my side to-day at that--shall\nI call it tragedy?--for never was a more thrilling scene acted before\nthe eyes of man.\"\n\n\"I was taken with a giddiness--a touch of fever,\" replied the courtier\naddressed by the name of Pollux.  He looked haggard and pale as he\nspoke.\n\n\"I marvel not--I marvel not if your blood boiled to fever-heat, as did\nmine!\" cried Lycidas.  \"No generous spirit could have beheld unmoved\nthose seven Hebrew brethren, one after another, before the eyes of\ntheir mother, tortured to death in the presence of Antiochus, because\nthey refused to break a law which they regarded as divine!\"\n\n\"Nay,\" replied Pollux, forcing a smile; \"their fate was nothing to me.\nWhat cared I if they chose to throw away their lives like fools for an\nidle superstition!\"\n\n\"Fools! say rather like heroes!\" exclaimed Lycidas, stopping short (for\nhe had turned and joined Pollux in his walk).  \"I marvel that you have\nso little sympathy for those gallant youths--you who, from your cast of\nfeatures, I should have deemed to be one of their race.\"\n\nPollux winced, and knitted his dark brows, as if the remark were\nunwelcome.\n\n\"I have looked on the Olympic arena,\" continued Lycidas, resuming his\nwalk, and quickening his steps as he warmed with his subject; \"I have\nseen the athletes with every muscle strained, their limbs intertwined,\nwrestling like Milo; or pressing forward in the race for the crown and\nthe palm, as if life were less dear than victory.  But never before had\nI beheld such a struggle as that on which my eyes looked to-day, where\nthe triumph was over the fear of man, the fear of death, where mortals\nwrestled with agony, and overcame it, silent, or but speaking such\nbrave words as burnt themselves into the memory, deathless utterances\nfrom the dying!  There were no plaudits to encourage these athletes, at\nleast none that man could hear; there was no shouting as each victor\nreached the goal.  But if the fortitude of suffering virtue be indeed a\nspectacle on which the gods admiringly look, then be assured that the\ninvisible ones were gazing down to-day on that glorious arena, ay, and\npreparing the crown and the palm!  For I can as soon believe,\"\ncontinued the Athenian, raising his arm and pointing towards the\nsetting sun, \"that that orb is lost, extinguished, blotted out from the\nuniverse, because he is sinking from our view, as that the noble\nspirits which animated those tortured forms could perish with them for\never!\"\n\nPollux turned his head aside; he cared not that his companion should\nsee the gesture of pain with which he gnawed his nether lip.\n\n\"It is certain that the sufferers looked forward to existence beyond\ndeath,\" continued the young Athenian.  \"One of the brothers, as he came\nforward to suffer, fixed his calm, stern gaze on Antiochus (I doubt not\nbut that gaze will haunt the memory of Syria's king when his own dying\nhour shall arrive), and said--I well remember his words--'Wicked\nprince, you bereave us of earthly life; but the King of heaven and\nearth, if we die in defence of His laws, will one day raise us up to\nlife eternal.'  The next sufferer, stretching forth his hands as if to\nreceive the palm rather than the executioner's stroke, said, with the\nsame calm assurance, 'I received these limbs from Heaven, but I now\ndespise them, since I am to defend the laws of God; from the sure and\nsteadfast hope that He will one day restore them to me.'  Is it\npossible that these men believed that not only souls but bodies would\nrise again--that some mysterious Power could and would restore them to\nlife eternal?  Is this the faith of the Hebrews?\"  The last question\nwas impatiently repeated by Lycidas before it received an answer.\n\n\"Some of them hold such a wild faith,\" said Pollux.\n\n\"A sublime, mysterious faith!\" observed Lycidas; \"one which makes the\nsouls of those who hold it invulnerable as was the body of Achilles,\nand without the one weak point.  It inspires even women and children\nwith the courage of heroes, as I witnessed this day.  The seventh of\nthe Hebrew brethren was of tender years, and goodly.  Even the king\npitied his youth, and offered him mercy and honours if he would forsake\nthe law of his God.  Antiochus swore that he would raise the youth to\nriches and power, and rank him amongst his favoured courtiers, if he\nwould bend to the will of the king.  I watched the countenance of the\nboy as the offer was made.  He saw on the one side the mangled forms of\nhis brethren--the grim faces of the executioners; on the other, all the\npomps and glories of earth: and yet he wavered not in his choice!\"\n\nPollux could hardly suppress a groan, and listened with ill-concealed\nimpatience as the Athenian went on with his narrative.\n\n\"Then the king bade the mother plead with her son, obey the promptings\nof nature, and bid him live for her sake.  She had stood through all\nthe fearful scene, not like a Niobe in tears, but with hands clasped\nand eyes upraised, as one who sees the invisible, and drinks in courage\nfrom words inaudible to other ears than her own.  She heard the king,\napproached her young son, laid her hand on his shoulder, and gazed on\nhim with unutterable tenderness.  Faith with her might conquer fear,\nbut could only deepen love.  She conjured her child, by all that she\nhad done and suffered for him, firmly to believe, and to fear not.\n'Show yourself worthy of your brethren,' she said, 'that, by the mercy\nof God, I may receive you, together with your brothers, in the glory\nwhich awaits us!'  And the fair boy smiled in her face, and followed in\nthe glorious track of those who had suffered before him, praying for\nhis country as he died for his faith.  Then, in cruelty which acted the\npart of mercy, the mother--last of that heroic band--was re-united to\nthem by death.  But I could not stay to look upon _that_ sacrifice,\"\nsaid Lycidas, with emotion; \"I had seen enough, and more than enough!\"\n\n\"And I have heard enough, and more than enough,\" muttered Pollux, on\nwhom the description of the scene given by Lycidas had inflicted keen\nanguish, the anguish of shame and remorse.\n\n\"You pity the sufferers?\" observed the Athenian.\n\n\"Pity--I envy!\" was the thought to which the blanched lips of a\nrenegade dared not give utterance; Pollux but shook his head in reply.\n\n\"I would fain know more of the religion of the Hebrews,\" said Lycidas;\n\"I have heard marvellous stories--more sublime than any that our poets\nhave sung--of a Deity bringing this people out of Egypt, making a path\nfor them through the depths of the sea, reining back its foaming waves\nas a rider his white-maned steed; giving to the thirsty--water from the\nrock, to the hungry--bread from the skies, and scattering the foes of\nIsrael before them, as chaff is driven by the wind.  I have heard of\nthe sun's fiery chariot arrested in its course by the voice of a man,\nspeaking with authority given to him by an inspiring Deity.  Tell me\nwhat is the name of the Hebrew's powerful God?\"\n\nPollux pressed his lips closely together; he dared not utter the awful\nname of Him whom he had denied.  The courtier laid his hand on the\njewelled clasp which fastened his girdle; perhaps the movement was\naccidental, perhaps he wished to direct the attention of his companion\nto the figures of Hercules and the Nemean lion which were embossed on\nthe gold.  \"You forget,\" observed Pollux, \"that I am a worshipper of\nthe deities of Olympus, that I sacrifice to the mighty Jove.\"\n\n\"I asked not what was your religion,\" said Lycidas; \"my question\nregarded that held by the Hebrews, of which you can scarcely be\nignorant.  What is the name of that God whom they would not deny, even\nto save themselves from torture and death?\"\n\n\"I cannot tarry here longer, noble stranger,\" was the hurried reply of\nPollux.  \"The sun has sunk; I must return to the city; Antiochus the\nking expects my attendance at his banquet to-night.\"\n\n\"I am bidden to it, but I go not,\" said the young Athenian; \"slaughter\nin the daytime, feasting at night--blood on the hands--wine at the\nlips--I hate, I loathe this union of massacre and mirth!  Go you and\nenjoy the revel in the palace of your king; were I present, I should\nsee at the banquet the shadowy forms of that glorious matron and her\nsons; I should hear above the laughter, the shout, and the song, the\nthrilling tones of voices confessing unshaken confidence in the power\nand mercy of their God, and the glorious hope of immortality where the\noppressor can torture no more.\"\n\nAnd with a somewhat constrained interchange of parting courtesies, the\nfree Greek and the sycophant of a tyrant went on their several ways.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nTHE MIDNIGHT BURIAL.\n\nThe scene which he had witnessed had left the mind of Lycidas in an\nexcited and feverish state.  The cooling breeze which whispered amongst\nthe leaves of the olives, and the solitude of the secluded place where\nPollux had left him, were refreshing to the young Greek's spirit.  He\nthrew himself on the grass beneath one of the trees, leant against its\ntrunk, and gazed upwards at the stars as, one by one, they appeared,\nlike gems studding the deep azure sky.\n\n\"Are these brave spirits now reigning in one of these orbs of beauty?\"\nthought the poet; \"or are the stars themselves living souls, spirits\nfreed from the chains of matter, shining for ever in the firmament\nabove?  I must know more of that Hebrew religion, and seek out those\nwho can initiate me into its mysteries, if it be lawful for a stranger\nto learn them.\"\n\nAnd then the thoughts of Lycidas turned to his poem, and he tried to\nthrow into verse some of the ideas suggested to his mind by the\nmartyrdoms which he had witnessed, but he speedily gave up the attempt\nin despair.\n\n\"Poetic ornament would but mar the grand outlines of such a history,\"\nhe murmured to himself; \"who would carve flowers upon the pyramids, or\ncrown with daisies an obelisk pointing to the skies!\"\n\nGradually sleep stole over the young Greek, his head drooped upon his\narm, his eyelids closed, and he slumbered long and deeply.\n\nLycidas was awakened by sounds near him, low and subdued, the cautious\ntread of many feet, the smothered whisper, and the faint rustle of\ngarments.  The Athenian opened his eyes, and gazed from his place of\nconcealment behind the thick branching stem of the olive on a strange\nand striking scene.\n\nThe moon, full and round, had just risen, but the foliage of the trees\nas yet obscured most of her light, as her silver lamp hung near the\nhorizon, casting long black shadows over the earth.  Several forms were\nmoving about in the faint gleam, apparently engaged in some work which\nneeded concealment, for none of them carried a torch.  Lycidas, himself\nsilent as the grave, watched the movements of those before him with a\ncuriosity which for a time so engrossed his mind as to take away all\nsense of personal danger, though he soon became aware that the\nintrusion of a stranger on these mysterious midnight proceedings would\nnot only be unwelcome, but might to himself be perilous.\n\nThe group of men assembled in that retired spot were evidently Hebrews,\nand as the eyes of Lycidas became accustomed to the gloom, and the\nascending moon had more power to disperse it, he intuitively singled\nout one from amongst them as the leader and chief of the rest.  Not\nthat his tunic and mantle were of richer materials than those of his\ncomrades; plain and dusty with travel were the sandals upon his feet,\nand he wore the simple white turban which a field-labourer might have\nworn.  But never had turban been folded around a more majestic brow,\nand the form wrapped in the mantle had the unconscious dignity which\nmarks those born to command.  The very tread of his sandalled feet\nreminded the Athenian of that of the desert lion, and from the dark\ndeep-set eye glanced the calm soul of a hero.\n\n\"Here be the place,\" said the chief, if such he were, pointing to the\nearth under the branches of the very tree against the trunk of which,\non the further side, the temple of Lycidas was pressed, as he bent\neagerly forward to watch and to listen.\n\nNot a word was uttered in reply; but the men around, after laying aside\ntheir upper garments, set to work to dig what appeared to be a wide\ntrench.  The leader himself threw off his mantle, took a spade, and\nlaboured with energy, bringing the whole force of his powerful muscles\nto bear on his humble toil.  All worked in profound silence, nor paused\nin their labour except now and then to listen, like men to whom danger\nhad taught some caution.\n\nWhilst the men went on with their digging, Lycidas strained his eyes to\ndistinguish the outlines of a group at some paces' distance, which\ndoubtless, though separated from them, belonged to the same party as\nthose so actively employed before him.  Two forms appeared to be seated\non the ground in a spot evidently chosen for its seclusion; one of them\nwas clothed in dark garments, the other was shrouded in a large white\nlinen veil.  Other figures in white seemed to be stretched upon the\nground in repose.  Lycidas watched this silent group for hours, and all\nremained motionless as marble, save that ever and anon the dark female\nfigure slightly swayed backwards and forwards with a rocking motion,\nand that several times the veiled head was turned with a quick\nmovement, as of alarm, when the breeze rustled in the olives a little\nmore loudly than usual, or bore sounds from the city to the woman's\nsensitive ear.\n\nMeanwhile the work of digging proceeded steadily, and the mound of\nearth thrown out grew large, for the arms of those who laboured were\nstrong and willing, and no man paused either to rest or to speak save\nonce.  It was almost a relief to Lycidas to hear at last the sound of a\nhuman voice from one of those phantom-like toilers by night.  He who\nspoke was the fiercest-looking of the band, with something of the\nwildness of Ishmael's race on features whose high strongly-marked\noutlines showed the Hebrew cast of countenance in its most exaggerated\ntype.\n\n\"There's more thunder in the air,\" he observed, resting for a minute on\nhis spade, and addressing himself to him whom Lycidas had mentally\nnamed \"the Hebrew prince,\" on account of his commanding height and\nnoble demeanour, and the deference with which his order had been\nreceived.\n\nNo answer was returned to the remark, and the wild-looking Jew spoke\nagain,--\n\n\"Have you heard that Apelles starts to-morrow for Modin, charged with a\nmission from the tyrant to compel its inhabitants to do sacrifice to\none of his accursed idol-gods?\"\n\n\"Is it so? then ere daybreak I set out for Modin,\" was the reply.\n\n\"It may be that the venerable Mattathias would rather have you absent,\"\nobserved the first speaker.\n\n\"Abishai, when the storm bursts, a son's place is by the side of his\nfather,\" said the princely Hebrew; and as he spoke he threw up a\nspadeful of earth from the pit which Lycidas doubted not was meant for\na grave.\n\nAgain the work proceeded in silence.  The moon had risen above the\ntrees before that silence was once more broken, this time by the leader\nof the band,--\n\n\"It is deep enough now, and broad enough; go ye and bring the honoured\ndead.\"\n\nThe command was at once obeyed.  All the men present, excepting the\nchief himself, who remained standing in the grave, went towards the\ngroup which has been previously mentioned.  Interest chained Lycidas to\nthe spot, though it occurred to his mind that prudence required him to\nseize this favourable opportunity of quietly making his escape.\n\nThe Greek remained, watching in the shadow, as on the rudest of biers,\nformed by two javelins fastened by cross-bars together, the swathed\nforms of the dead, one after another, were borne to the edge of the\npit.  They were followed by the two female mourners that had kept guard\nover the remains while the grave was being prepared.  The first of\nthese was a tall, stately woman, with hair which glistened in the\nmoonbeams like silver, braided back from a face of which age had not\ndestroyed the majestic beauty.  Sternly sad stood the Hebrew matron by\nthe grave of the martyred dead; no tear in her eyes, which were bright\nwith something of prophetic fire.  So might a Deborah have stood, had\nSisera won the victory, and she had had to raise the death-wall over\nIsrael's slain, instead of the song of triumph to hail the conquerors'\nreturn.\n\nThe other female form, which was smaller, and exquisitely graceful in\nits movements, remained slightly retired, and still closely veiled.\nLycidas remarked that the eyes of the leader watched that veiled form,\nas it approached, with a softened and somewhat anxious expression.\nThis was, however, but for some moments, and the Hebrew then gave his\nundivided attention to the pious work on which he was engaged.\n\nStill standing in the grave, the chief received the bodies, one by one,\nfrom the men who had borne them to the place of interment.  He took\neach corpse in his powerful arms, and unaided laid it down in its last\nresting-place, as gently as if he were laying down on a soft couch a\nsleeper whom he feared to awaken.  Lycidas caught a glimpse of the pale\nplacid face of one of the shrouded forms, but needed not that glimpse\nto feel certain that those whose remains were thus secretly interred by\nkinsmen or friends at the peril of their lives, were the same as those\nwhose martyrdom he had so indignantly witnessed.  The Athenian knew\nenough of the Syrian tyrant to estimate how daring and how difficult\nmust have been the feat of rescuing so many of the bodies of his\nvictims from the dishonour of being left to the dog or the vulture.\nThe devotion of the living, as well as the martyrdom of the dead, gave\nan interest to that midnight burial which no earthly pomp could have\nlent.  The spirit of the young Athenian glowed with generous sympathy;\nand of high descent and proud antecedents as he was, Lycidas would have\ndeemed it an honour to have helped to dig that wide grave for the eight\nslaughtered Jews.\n\nThe burial was conducted in solemn silence, save as regarded the Hebrew\nmatron, and her deep thrilling accents were meeter requiem for the\nmartyrs than the loudest lamentations of hired mourners would have\nbeen.  As the chief received each lifeless form into his arms, the\nmatron uttered a short sentence over it, in which words of the ancient\nHebrew spoken by her fathers blended with the Chaldee, then the\nlanguage commonly used by the Jews.  Her thoughts, as she gave them\nutterance, clothed themselves in unpremeditated poetry; the Athenian\ncould neither understand all her words, nor her allusions to the past,\nbut the majesty of gesture the music of sound, made him listen as he\nmight have done to the inspired priestess of some oracle's shrine.\n\n\"We may not wail aloud for thee, my son, nor rend our garments, nor put\non sackcloth, nor pour dust upon our heads.  He who hath bereaved thee\nof life, would bereave thee even of our tears; but thou art resting on\nAbraham's bosom, where the tyrant can reach thee no more.\n\n\"Thou art taken away from the evil.  Thou seest no longer Jerusalem\ntrodden by the heathen, nor the abomination of desolation set up in the\nsanctuary of the Lord.\n\n\"Even as Isaac was laid on the altar, so didst thou yield thy body to\ndeath, and thy sacrifice is accepted.\n\n\"As the dead wood of Aaron's rod, cut off from the tree on which it had\ngrown, yet blossomed and bare fruit; cut off as thou art in thy prime,\nthy memory shall blossom for ever.\n\n\"The three holy children trod unharmed the fiery furnace seven time\nheated.  He who was with them was surely with thee; and the Angel of\nDeath hath bidden thee come forth, naught harmed by the fire, save the\nbonds of flesh which thy free spirit hath left behind.\n\n\"To touch a dead body is counted pollution; to touch thine is rather\nconsecration; for it is a holy thing which thou hast freely offered to\nGod.\"\n\nWith peculiar tenderness the matron breathed her requiem over the\nseventh body as it was laid by the rest.\n\n\"Youngest and best-beloved of thy mother; thou flower of the spring,\nthou shalt slumber in peace on her bosom.  Ye were lovely and pleasant\nin your lives, in your deaths ye are not divided.\"\n\nIt was with calm chastened sorrow that the last farewell had been\nspoken as the bodies of the martyred brethren had been placed in their\nquiet grave; but there was a bitterness of grief in the wail of the\nHebrew woman over their mother, which made every word seem to Lycidas\nlike a drop of blood wrung from the heart of the speaker.\n\n\"Blessed, oh, thrice blessed art thou, Solomona, my sister, richest of\nmothers in Israel!  Thou hast borne seven, and amongst them not one has\nbeen false to his God.  Thy diadem lacks no gem--thy circle of love is\nunbroken.  Blessed she who, dying by her martyred sons, could say to\nher Lord: _Lo, I and the children whom Thou hast given me;_\" and as the\nmatron ended her lament, she tore her silver hair, rent her garments,\nand bowed her head with a gesture of uncontrollable grief.\n\nAll the bodies having been now reverentially placed in the grave, the\nchief rose from it, and joined his companions.  Abishai then thus\naddressed him:--\n\n\"Hadassah hath made her lament.  Son of Phineas, descendant of Aaron\nthe high-priest of God, have you no word to speak over the grave of\nthose who died for the faith?\"\n\nThe chief lifted up his right hand towards heaven, and slowly repeated\nthat sublime verse from Isaiah, which to those who lived in that remote\nperiod must have seemed as full of mystery as of consolation,--_\"Thy\ndead shall live!  My dead body shall they arise!  Awake and sing, ye\nthat dwell in dust: for thy dew the dew of herbs, and the earth, shall\ncast out the dead._\"[1]\n\nThe sound of that glorious promise of Scripture seemed to rouse\nHadassah from her agonizing grief; she lifted up her bowed head, calm\nand serene as before.  Turning to the veiled woman near her, she said,\n\"We may not burn perfumes over these our honoured dead, but you, Zarah,\nmy child, have brought living flowers for the burial, and their\nfragrance shall rise as incense.  Cast them into the grave ere we close\nit.\"\n\nObedient to the command of her aged relative, the maiden whom Hadassah\nhad addressed glided forward to the brink of the grave, and threw down\ninto it a fragrant shower of blossoms.  The movement threw back her\nveil, and there flashed upon Lycidas a vision of loveliness more\nexquisite than the poet had ever beheld even in his dreams, as the full\nstream of moonlight fell on the countenance of the fairest of all the\ndaughters of Zion.  Her long dark lashes drooped, moist with tears, as\nshe performed her simple act of reverence towards her dead kinsmen;\nthen Zarah raised her eyes with a mournful sweet expression, which was\nsuddenly exchanged for a look of alarm--she started, and a faint cry\nescaped from her lips.  The maiden had caught sight of the stranger\ncrouching in the deep shadow, her eyes had met his--concealment was\nover--Lycidas was discovered!\n\n\n\n[1] Isaiah xxvi. 19.  It will be observed that interpolated italics are\nomitted.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nLIFE OR DEATH.\n\n\"A spy! a traitor! cut him down--hew him to pieces!\" such were the\ncries, not loud but terrible, that, as thunder on flash, followed that\nexclamation from Zarah.  Cold steel gleamed in the moonlight; Lycidas,\nwho had scarcely before thought of his own personal danger, found\nhimself in a moment surrounded by a furious band with weapons upraised\nto take his life.  With the instinct of self-preservation the young\nAthenian sprang forwards, clasped the knees of the leader, and\nexclaimed, \"No spy--no Syrian--no foe! as ye would find mercy in the\nhour of death, only hear me!\"  Then, ashamed at having been betrayed\ninto showing what might look like cowardly fear, the Greek stood erect,\nbut gasping, expecting that ere he could draw another breath he should\nfeel the dagger in his side, or the sword at his throat.\n\n\"Hold--let him speak ere he die!\" cried the leader; and, at his gesture\nof command, uplifted blades were arrested in air, and like leopards\ncrouching in act to spring, the Hebrews surrounded their prisoner, to\nprevent the possibility of his making his escape.\n\n\"What would you say in your defence, young man?\" asked the leader, in\ntones calm and stern.  \"Can you deny that you have been present as a\nspy at a scene to have witnessed which places the lives of all here\nassembled in your hands?\"\n\n\"I am a Greek, an Athenian,\" said Lycidas, who had recovered his\nself-possession, and who intuitively felt that he was at the mercy of\none who might be sternly just, but who would not be wantonly cruel.  \"I\nam here, but not as a spy--not to look with prying eyes upon your\nsolemn and sacred rites.  Led by chance to this spot, sleep overtook me\nunder this tree.  I would forfeit my right hand, nay, my life, rather\nthan betray one engaged in the noble act which I have accidentally\nwitnessed tonight.\"\n\n\"Will you hear him, the heathen dog, the son of Belial, the lying\nGentile!\" yelled out Abishai, his gleaming white teeth and flashing\neyes giving to him an almost wolf-like ferocity of aspect, that well\naccorded with his cry for blood.  \"He was present--I know it--when our\nmartyred brethren were slain; ay, he looked on their dying pangs!--tear\nhim to pieces--set your heel on his neck--he has rejoiced at the\nslaughter of the just.\"\n\n\"No!\" cried Lycidas with vehemence; \"I call to witness the--\"\n\n\"Stop his blaspheming tongue with the steel!\" exclaimed Abishai\nfuriously; \"let him not profane our ears with the names of the demons\nwhom he worships.  Cut him off from the face of the earth--that grave\nwill hold one body more--the blood of our brethren cries out for\nvengeance!\"\n\nSeveral voices echoed the fierce appeal, but amongst the wild cries for\nrevenge, the ear of Lycidas, and the ear of the leader also, caught the\nmaiden's faint exclamation, \"Oh, Judas, have mercy! spare him!\"\n\nStill the extended hand of the chief alone kept back the fierce band\nwho would have cut down their defenceless victim.  But there was\npainful doubt on the brow of the leader; not that he was influenced by\nthe demand for blood from Abishai and his fierce companions, but that\nhe was aware of the extreme risk of setting the captive free.  Lycidas\nfelt that his fate hung on the lips of that calm princely man, and was\nalmost satisfied that so it should be; a thought rose in the mind of\nthe Greek, \"If I must die, let it be by his hand.\"\n\n\"Stranger,\" began the son of Mattathias, and at the sound of his voice\nthe tumult was hushed, and all stood silent to listen; \"I doubt not\nyour word, I thirst not for your blood--were my own life only at stake,\nnot a hair of your head should be harmed.  But on your silence as to\nwhat you have seen this night depends the safety of all here assembled,\neven of these daughters of Zion, for the tyrant spares not our women.\nWe have no power to detain in captivity--we have but one way of\nensuring silence; would you yourself--with the grave of those martyrs\nbefore you--be able to reproach us with cruelty should we decide on\ntaking that way?\"\n\nLycidas met without blenching the calm sad eyes of the speaker, but he\ncould not answer the question.  He knew that under like circumstances\nneither Syrian nor Greek would feel hesitation before, or remorse\nafter, what would be deemed a stern deed of necessity.  The eloquent\nlips of the poet had no power to plead now for life.\n\n\"Why waste words!\" exclaimed fierce Abishai; \"why do you hesitate,\nJudas?  One would scarce deem you to be the descendant of that Phineas\nwho won deathless fame by smiting Zimri and Cosbi through with a dart.\n'Thine eye shall not pity, nor thine hand spare.'  Guilt lies on your\nhead if you let Agag go.  Was not the Canaanite to be rooted out of the\nland?  Who dare bid us draw back when the Lord hath delivered the prey\nto our swords?\"\n\n\"I dare--I do,\" cried Hadassah, advancing with dignity to the edge of\nthe grove which separated her and her grand-daughter Zarah from the\nHebrew men and their captive.  \"Shame on you, Abishai, man of blood.\nYea, though you be the husband of my dead daughter, I repeat, shame on\nyou to bring the name of the Lord to sanction your own thirst for\nvengeance!  Hear me, son of Mattathias; ye men of Judah, hear me.  The\nMerciful bids me speak, and I cannot refrain from speaking the words\nwhich He puts into my mouth.\"\n\nThe matron was evidently regarded with reverence by those who were\npresent.  Judas was related to her by blood, Abishai by marriage; two\nof the other five Hebrews had been her servants in her more prosperous\ndays.  But it was chiefly the dignity of Hadassah's character that gave\nweight to her speech; the widowed lady was regarded in Jerusalem almost\nas a prophetess, as one endued with wisdom from on high.  Her pleading\nmight not be effectual, but would at least be listened to with respect.\n\n\"The Canaanite was swept from the land,\" said Hadassah; \"Zeba and\nZalmunna were slain; Cosbi and Zimri were smitten through with a dart;\nbut these were sinners whose cup of iniquity was full, and the swords\nof Israel executed God's righteous vengeance upon them, even as the\nwaves of the sea overwhelmed Pharaoh, or the flood a world of\ntransgressors.  But the God of justice is the God also of mercy, slow\nto anger and plenteous in goodness.  He calleth vengeance--though His\nwork--His _strange work_ (Isa. xxviii. 21).  He hath given command, by\nHis servant the Preacher, _If thine enemy be hungry, give him bread to\neat; and if he be thirsty, give him water to drink_ (Prov. xxv. 21).\n_Rejoice not when thine enemy falleth; and let not thine heart be glad\nwhen he stumbleth_\" (Prov. xxiv. 17).\n\n\"An enemy born of the house of Israel, not a vile Gentile,\" muttered\none of the men who were present.\n\n\"Is the Lord the Maker only of the Jew; made He not the Gentile also?\"\ncried Hadassah.  \"_Thou shalt not oppress a stranger_, saith the Lord,\n_seeing ye were strangers in the land of Egypt_ (Ex. xxiii. 9).  Did\nnot Hobab the Midianite dwell among the people of Israel; was not\nAchior the Ammonite welcomed by the elders of Bethura; was not the\nblood of the Hittite required at the hand of David, and Ittai the\nGittite found faithful when Israelites fell away from their king?  God\nsaid of Cyrus the Persian, _He is my shepherd_ (Isa. xliv. 28), and\nAlexander of Macedon was suffered to offer sacrifices to the Lord God\nof Jacob.  Yea, hath not Isaiah the prophet declared that He, the Holy\nOne, the Messiah, for whose coming we look, _shall bring forth judgment\nto the Gentiles_ (Isa. xlii. 1), shall be _a light of the Gentiles_\n(Isa. xlii. 6), that He will lift up His hand to the Gentiles (Isa.\nxlix. 22), so that their kings shall be nursing-fathers, and their\nqueens nursing-mothers to His people (Isa. xlix. 23)?  Ay, a time is\ncoming--may it speedily come!--when the _idols He shall utterly\nabolish_ (Isa. ii. 18), when the Lord's house shall be established, and\nall nations shall flow unto it (Isa. ii. 2), when _the earth shall be\nfilled with the knowledge of the glory of the Lord, as the waters cover\nthe sea_\" (Hab. ii. 14).\n\nThe noble features of the aged matron kindled as with inspiration, and\nas she raised her hand towards heaven, she seemed to call the Deity to\nconfirm His glorious promises of mercy to the people yet walking in\ndarkness.\n\nA confused murmur rose amongst the listeners; if Hadassah's appeal had\nimpressed some, it had stirred up in others the fierce jealousy which\nmade so many Jews unwilling that the Gentiles should ever share the\nprivileges of Abraham's race.  The captive's life hung upon a slender\nthread, and he knew it.\n\n\"Hadassah,\" said the chief, addressing the widow with respect, \"do you\nthen require that we should trust this stranger, when--if he prove\nfalse--so many Hebrew lives will be the forfeit of confidence\nmisplaced?\"\n\n\"I require that you should trust Him who hath said, _Thou shalt do no\nmurder_; who hath ordained that _whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man\nshall his blood be shed_.  We show little faith when we think to find\nsafety in transgressing the law of our God.\"\n\nAgain rose a fierce, angry murmur.  Lycidas heard the words, \"folly,\nmadness, tempting Providence,\" mingled with imprecations on \"dogs of\nheathen,\" \"idolaters,\" \"the polluted, the worshippers of graven images.\"\n\nJudas laid hold on his javelin, which he had placed against the trunk\nof the olive when he had exchanged the weapon for the spade.  The heart\nof Lycidas throbbed faster, he read his own death-warrant in the\nmovement, but he braced his spirit to fall bravely, as became a\nfellow-citizen of Miltiades.  Again there was profound silence, all\nawaiting what should follow that simple action of the leader.\n\n\"Time passes, every minute that we linger here is fraught with peril,\nour decision must be prompt,\" said Judas, and he motioned to Hadassah\nand Zarah to join the company of men on the side of the grave nearest\nto the stem of the tree.  When they had done so, the son of Mattathias\ncast his javelin down on the ground.  \"Let those who would let the\ncaptive go free, those who would trust his gratitude and honour, pass\nover my javelin,\" cried Judas.  \"If the greater number cross it, we\nspare; if they remain here, we slay.  Are you content?\" he inquired.\n\nThere was a murmured \"Content\" from most of those present.  The chief\nthen turned his glance on Lycidas, and with stern courtesy repeated his\nquestion to the Greek.  The young captive bowed his head, folded his\narms, and answered \"Content.\"\n\n\"The women shall not vote!\" exclaimed Abishai.  \"They shall vote,\" said\nthe chief, with decision; \"their peril is equal to ours, and so shall\ntheir privilege be.\"\n\nIt was with strangely mingled emotions that Lycidas beheld, as it were,\nthe balance raised, one of the scales of which was weighted with his\nfreedom and life!  Fear was scarcely the predominating feeling.  A\ncloud for a few moments darkened the face of the moon, but through the\nshadow he could see the stately dark figure of Hadassah as she crossed\nover the javelin, and the flutter of Zarah's white veil.  As the silver\norb emerged from the cloud, the women were followed by the two Hebrews\nwho had once been servants to Hadassah.\n\n\"Four on that side--five on this--he dies!\" cried Abishai eagerly; but\neven as the exclamation was on his lips, Judas with a bound sprang over\nthe javelin, and stood at the side of Zarah.\n\n\"He lives--the Merciful be praised!\" cried Hadassah.  Abishai, with a\nmuttered curse, thrust back his thirsty blade into its sheath.\n\n\"Captive, depart in peace,\" said the son of Mattathias; \"but ere you\nquit this spot, solemnly vow silence as to what you have witnessed\nhere.\"\n\nLycidas instantly obeyed.  \"May I share the torments of those whose\ngrave--but for your mercy--I should have shared, if I ever prove false\nto my oath,\" cried the Greek.\n\nThe chief waved his hand to bid him depart, and leave the Hebrews to\ncomplete the solemn work which his appearance had interrupted.\n\nLycidas, however, showed no haste to escape.  He glanced towards\nHadassah and Zarah.  \"May I not speak my gratitude,\" he began,\nadvancing one step towards them; but the widow by a gesture forbade his\nnearer approach.\n\n\"Live your gratitude, speak it not, stranger,\" said she.  \"If ever you\nsee son or daughter of Abraham in peril, remember this night; if ever\nyour enemy stand defenceless before you, remember this night.  And when\nnext you would bow down before an idol, and pray--as your people\npray--to the deaf wood and the senseless stone, pause and reflect first\nupon what you have learned on this sacred spot of the faith of the\nHebrews,\" Hadassah pointed to the open grave as she spoke, \"how it can\nnerve the weak to suffer, and induce the strong to spare!\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nFOLLOWING BEHIND.\n\nAs he quitted that place of burial, which he had little expected to\nleave alive, Lycidas felt like one under an enchanter's spell.  Joy at\nalmost unhoped-for escape from a violent death was not the emotion\nuppermost in his mind, and it became the less so with every step which\nthe Athenian took from the olive-grove.  Strange as the feeling\nappeared even to himself, the young poet could almost have wished the\nwhole scene acted over again, notwithstanding the painfully prominent\npart which he had had to play in it.  Lycidas would not have been\nunwilling to have heard again the fierce cries and execrations, and to\nhave seen once more the flashing weapons around him, for the sake of\nalso hearing the soft appeal, \"Have mercy, spare him!\" and to have had\nanother glimpse of Zarah's form and face, as, with a halo of moonlight\nand loveliness around her, she dropped her tribute of living flowers\ninto the grave of the dead.\n\n\"These Hebrew women are not as the women of earth, but beings that\nbelong to a higher sphere,\" thought Lycidas, as he pursued his way\ntowards the city.  \"That aged matron has all the majesty of a Juno, and\nthe maiden is fair as--nay, to which of the deities of Olympus could I\ncompare one so tender and so pure!  Venus! the idea were\nprofanation--chaste Dian with her merciless arrows--Pallas, terrible to\nher enemies? no!  Strange that it should seem an insult to the women to\ncompare her to the goddess!\"\n\nLycidas gazed upwards at the exquisite blue of that Eastern sky, and\naround him at the fair landscape of hills and valleys calmly sleeping\nin moonlight.  A thrilling sense of beauty pervaded his soul.\n\n\"Oh, holy and beneficent Nature,\" he murmured, \"hast thou no voice to\nexplain to men through thy visible glories the mysteries of the\ninvisible!  Dost thou not even now whisper to my soul, 'purity and\ngoodness are the attributes of Divinity, for they are stamped upon the\nworks of creation; and so must purity and goodness be the badge of the\nDivinity's true worshippers on earth!'  There is a spirit stirring\nwithin the breast that echoes this voice of Nature, that repeats,\n'purity and goodness, not power and might, give the highest dignity to\nmortal or immortal!'  But if it be so, if my hand have touched the\nmighty veil which shrouds the truth from man's profane gaze, if I have\na glimpse of the sacred mystery beyond, how far from that truth, in\nwhat a mist of error must all the nations of earth be wandering now!\"\nLycidas unconsciously slackened his steps, and raised his hand to his\nbrow.  \"Perhaps not all,\" he reflected; \"from what I hear it appears\nthat this Hebrew nation, this handful of conquered people groaning in\nbondage, hold themselves to be the sole guardians of a faith which is\nlofty, soul-ennobling, and pure.  They deem themselves to be as a\nbeacon on a hill set on high, throughout ages past, to show a dark\nworld that there is still light, and a light which shall yet overspread\nthe earth as the waters cover the sea; those were the words of\nHadassah.  And she spake also of One who should come, One looked for by\nthe Jews, who shall bring judgment unto the Gentiles.  Do the Hebrews\nhope for the advent of a Deity upon earth, or only that of a prophet?\nI would that I could see Hadassah again; and I will see her--I will\nnever give up the search for one who can guide unto knowledge; come\nwhat may, I will look upon her and on that beauteous maiden again!\"\n\nAbsorbed as he was by such thoughts, there is little wonder that the\nyoung Athenian missed his way, and that he unconsciously wandered in a\ndirection different from that which he had intended to take.  The\nmoonlight also failed him, clouds had arisen, and only now and then a\nfitful gleam fell on his path.  Lycidas became at last uncertain even\nas to the direction in which Jerusalem lay.  The young Athenian was\nweary, less from physical fatigue than from the effects of strong\nexcitement upon a sensitive frame.  Sometimes he fancied now that he\nheard a stealthy step behind him, and stopped to listen, then felt\nassured that his senses must have deceived him, and went on his way,\ngroping through the darkness.  What a strange episode in his existence\nthat night appeared to the Greek--scarcely a mere episode, for it\nseemed to him that it absorbed into itself all the true poetry of his\nlife as regarded the past, and gave him new aspirations and hopes as\nregarded the future.  To Lycidas the remembrance of his poetical\ntriumph in the Olympic arena, the plaudits which had then filled his\nsoul with ecstatic delight, was little more than to a man is the\nrecollection of the toys which amused his childhood.  The Greek had\nbeen brought face to face with life's grand realities, and what had\nstrongly excited his ambition once, appeared to him now as shadows that\npass away.\n\n\"And yet,\" mused the young poet, \"I would fain once more win the leafy\ncrown, that I might lay it at Zarah's feet.  But what would such a\ntrophy of earthly distinction be to her? not worth one of the flowers,\nhallowed by her touch, which she cast into the martyrs' grave!  Ha!\nagain!  I fancied that I heard a rustle of garments behind me!  How\npowerful is the imagination, that mirage of the mind, that makes us\nfancy the existence of things that are not!\"\n\nLycidas had now reached a part of the road which bordered an abrupt\ndescent to the left, the hill along whose side the path wound appearing\nto have been scarped in this place, probably to leave wider space for\nsome vine-clad terrace below.  Lights were gleaming in the far\ndistance, marking the position of the city in which the guests of\nAntiochus, preceded by torch-bearers, were wending their way back to\ntheir several homes.  Sounds of wild mirth, from those reeling back\nfrom the revels, were faintly borne on the night breeze from the\ndistant streets.\n\nLycidas, however, when he reached the point whence the lights were\nvisible, was not left a moment either to gaze or to listen.\n\n\"Dog of a Gentile--I have you!\" hissed a voice from behind; and Lycidas\nwas instantly engaged in a life or death hand-to-hand struggle with\nAbishai the Jew, who, as soon as he could steal away from his\ncompanions at the grave, had followed and dogged the steps of the\nGreek.  It was almost a hopeless struggle for the young Athenian; his\nenemy surpassed him in strength of muscle and weight of body, wore a\ndagger, and was determined to use it, though some wild sense of honour\nhad prevented Abishai from stabbing the unconscious youth without\nwarning, when he stole upon him from behind.  But the love of life is\nstrong, and desperation gives almost supernatural power.  Lycidas felt\nthe keen blade strike him once and again, he felt his blood gushing\nwarm from the wounds, he caught the arm uplifted to smite, with\ndespair's fierce energy he endeavoured to wrench the murderous weapon\naway.  The two men went wrestling, struggling, straining each sinew to\nthe utmost, drawing nearer, inch by inch, to the brink of the steep\ndescent.  Abishai dropped his dagger in the struggle, and could not\nstoop to attempt to recover it in the darkness, but he grasped with his\nsinewy hand the gasping youth by the locks, and, with a gigantic\neffort, hurled him over the edge.\n\nWith dilating eyeballs and a look of fierce triumph Abishai leant over\nthe brink, trying to distinguish through the deepening gloom the\nlifeless form of his victim.\n\n\"I have silenced the Gentile once and for ever!\" cried the fierce\nHebrew through his clenched teeth.  \"I said not 'Content' when the\nquestion was put, but I say it now!\"  He drew back from the edge, wiped\nthe moisture from his heated brow, and left a red stain upon it.\n\n\"Ere I go to rest,\" said the stern Jew, \"I will let Hadassah know that\nmy arm has achieved that safety for her and our brave companions which\nher wild folly would have sacrificed.  I marvel that Judas, son of\nMattathias, a bold man, and deemed a wise one, should have let himself\nbe swayed from his purpose by the idle words of a woman.  But I trow,\"\nadded Abishai with a grim smile, \"that a glance from Zarah went further\nwith him than all the pleadings of Hadassah.  It is said amongst us,\ntheir kinsmen, that these twain shall be made one; but this is no time\nfor marrying and giving in marriage, when the unclean swine is\nsacrificed on God's altar, and the shadow of the idol darkens the\nTemple, and the sons of Abraham are given but the alternative to defile\nthemselves or to die.  The day of vengeance is at hand! may all the\nenemies of Judah perish as that poor wretch has perished this night!\"\n\nAbishai sought for his dagger, and found it; he then left the scene of\nhis act of ruthless cruelty, with a conscience less troubled by so dark\na deed than it would have been had he rubbed corn between his hands on\nthe Sabbath, or neglected one of the washings prescribed by the\ntraditions of the elders.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nTHE DREAM.\n\nAt sunrise on the following morning two women were seated on the\nground, in the back part of a small flat-roofed house, situated in a\nvery secluded spot amongst the hills, not a mile from Jerusalem.  They\nsat opposite to each other, engaged--after the manner of the East--in\ngrinding corn, by moving round, by means of handles, the upper\nmillstone upon the nether one.\n\nThe room in which they were, if room it could be termed, was a narrow\nplace on the ground-floor, partitioned off from a larger apartment, and\ndevoted to holding stores, and other such domestic uses.  Here corn was\nground, rice sifted from the husk, and occasionally weaving carried on.\nLarge bunches of raisins hung on the walls, jars of olive-oil and honey\nwere neatly ranged on the floor; nor lacked there stores of millet,\nlentiles, and dried figs, such being the food on which chiefly\nsubsisted the dwellers in that lonely home.  A curtain, now drawn aside\ndivided this store-place from the larger front room, which opened to\nthe road in front.  It had a door communicating with a small patch of\ncultivated ground behind, in which were a few flowers tended by women's\nhands, the fairest clustering round a bright little spring which gushed\nfrom the hill on whose steepest side the small habitation seemed to\nnestle.\n\nOne of the women, busy with the laborious task of grinding, was a\nHebrew servant, past the prime of her days, but still strong to work;\nthe other was fair and young, her delicate frame, her slender fingers,\nlooking little suited for manual labour.  With a very sad countenance\nand a heavy heart sat Zarah that morning at the millstone, engaged in\nher monotonous task.  It was not that she was unwilling to spend her\nstrength in humble toil, or that she murmured because her grandmother\nHadassah had no longer men-servants and but one maid-servant to do her\nbidding.  Zarah had too much of the spirit of a Ruth to shrink from\nwork, or to complain of poverty, if shared with one who was to her as a\nmother; nay, her cheerfulness at labour was wont to gush forth in song.\nIt was not a personal trial that now made the tears flow from Zarah's\nlustrous eyes, as she slowly turned round the millstone; no selfish\nsorrow drew heavy sighs from her bosom, as she murmured to herself,\n\"Oh, cruel--cruel!\"\n\n\"Peace be unto you, my child.  You are early, and it was late ere you\ncould retire to rest,\" said the voice of Hadassah, as, pale and sad in\naspect, the widow lady entered the apartment.\n\nZarah arose from her humble posture, approached her grandmother, first\nmeekly kissed the hem of her garment, and then received her tender\nembrace.\n\n\"I could not sleep,\" faltered the maiden; \"I dared not close my eyes\nlest I should dream some dream of horror.  Oh, ruthless Abishai, most\ncruel of men! will not the All-merciful, who cares for the stranger,\nrequire that young Greek's blood at his hand?\"--Zarah covered her face\nand wept.\n\n\"His was an unrighteous and wicked deed,\" said Hadassah.\n\n\"And it was I who betrayed the stranger,\" sobbed Zarah.  \"It was my\nstart and exclamation which directed the murderer's eyes to his place\nof concealment!  I shall never be happy again!\"\n\n\"Nay, you did no wrong, my white dove,\" said Hadassah, tenderly drawing\nthe maiden closer to her bosom; \"the guilt lies on the head of Abishai,\nand on his head alone.  Had he not been the beloved of my dead Miriam,\nmy only daughter, never more should that man of blood cross the\nthreshold of Hadassah.\"\n\n\"I never wish to look on Abishai again!\" cried Zarah, with as much of\nanger as her gentle nature was capable of feeling, flashing from under\nher long dark lashes.  \"He might have trusted one whom Judas could\ntrust; the face of that Greek was a face which could not deceive;\" and\nthe maiden added, but not aloud, \"the stranger--when he stood with\nfolded arms, so calm, so beauteous, so noble, and bowed his head, and\nsaid 'Content' when his life was trembling in the balance--looked to me\nas one of the goodly angels that came to Sodom at eve!  Better, if he\nmust needs die, that the Greek should have fallen by the javelin of my\nbrave kinsman Judas, than by the dagger of Abishai.  Mother,\" cried\nZarah, suddenly raising her head, and looking into the face of Hadassah\nwith an earnest, pleading gaze, \"may we not hope that the stranger's\nsoul has found mercy with God?  How could the young Gentile worship One\nwhom he knew not?--his blindness was inherited from his parents--he did\nnot wilfully turn away from the light!  Oh, say that you think that the\nAll-merciful has had compassion on the murdered Greek! did not the Lord\nspare Nineveh--pitied He not even the little ones and the cattle?\"\n\n\"I do think it--I do firmly believe it,\" said Hadassah, raising her\neyes towards heaven; \"verily the dream that visited me last night must\nhave been sent to assure me of this.\"\n\n\"Tell me your dream, mother,\" cried Zarah, who always addressed by this\ntitle the parent of her father.\n\n\"Come with me into the front room, my child; leave Anna to prepare our\npottage of lentiles, and I will tell you my dream,\" said Hadassah,\nleading the way into what might, in a European dwelling, have been\ncalled the sitting-room.  This, with the place which they had just\nquitted, and two sleeping apartments above, which were reached by a\nrough stair on the exterior of the dwelling, constituted all the\naccommodation of Hadassah's small house, if we except the flat roof,\nsurrounded by a parapet, often used by the ladies as a cool and airy\nretreat.\n\nHadassah and her grand-daughter seated themselves in a half-reclining\nposture upon skins that were spread on the tiled floor; and while Zarah\nlistened with glistening eyes, the Hebrew widow told her dream to the\nmaiden.\n\n\"Methought, in the visions of the night--for I snatched a brief hour of\nrepose after our return from the burial--I beheld two women before me.\nThey were both goodly to look upon, with a strange spiritual beauty not\nseen on this side of the tomb.  The feet of the women rested not on the\nearth, but they gently floated above it; the air seemed purpled around\nthem, and fragrant with the odour of myrrh.  The first woman bore in\nher hand a scarlet cord, the other a bundle of golden corn.\n\n\"'Hadassah,' said the first, 'I am Rahab, of the doomed race of Canaan,\nyet received as a daughter of Abraham.  For the sake of David, born of\nmy line, and for the sake of Him who was the Root of Jesse (Isa. xi.\n10) and shall be the Branch (Isa. xi. 1), have pity upon the stranger.'\n\n\"And the second woman, who was exceeding fair, spoke to me in like\nmanner: 'Hadassah, I am Ruth, of the guilty race of Moab, yet received\nas a daughter of Abraham.  For the sake of David, born of my line, and\nfor the sake of Him who was the Root of Jesse and shall be the Branch,\nhave pity upon the stranger.'  And so the two bright visitants\nvanished--and I awoke.\"\n\n\"Would that your dream had been sent to Abishai!\" exclaimed Zarah;\n\"then might he not through life have borne the brand-mark of Cain!\"\n\n\"Hark!\" cried Hadassah, suddenly; \"was that a groan that I heard?\"\n\nZarah had heard the sound also, and was on her feet and at the door\nbefore Hadassah had ended the sentence.\n\n\"Oh, mother--it is he--the stranger--he is dying!\" exclaimed Zarah,\ntrembling as she bent over the form of Lycidas, which lay stretched on\nthe ground, close to the threshold.\n\nThe injuries which the young Greek had received from the dagger and the\nfall, though severe and dangerous, had not proved fatal.  The fresh\nmorning air had restored him to consciousness; unable to rise, Lycidas\nhad yet managed to drag himself feebly along for some distance, till,\nas he reached the nearest dwelling, the strength of the Athenian had\nutterly failed him, and he had swooned at the door of Hadassah.\n\n\"Bear him in--he bleeds!\" said Hadassah; and after calling the\nstrong-armed Anna to aid them, the Hebrew ladies themselves carried the\nsenseless form of the stranger into the house, and beyond the\ncurtain-partition into that back portion of the dwelling described in\nthe beginning of this chapter.  For some time undivided attention was\ngiven to efforts to restore consciousness to the wounded man.\nHadassah, like many of her countrywomen, had knowledge of the healing\nart.  Zarah brought of the balm of Gilead and reviving wine; Anna\ndragged into the inner room mats and skins, that the sufferer might\nhave something softer to rest upon than the hard floor.  Zarah and the\nservant then retired, by the order of Hadassah, leaving her to examine\nand bind up the wounds of Lycidas, which she did with tenderness and\nskill  When all had been done which could be done, Hadassah drew aside\nthe curtain-screen, and rejoined Zarah and Anna in the front apartment,\nwhere the latter was engaged in removing the crimson stains left by the\nwounded Greek on the floor and threshold.\n\n\"Go on the road, Anna,\" said the widow; \"carefully efface any marks by\nwhich a wounded man could be tracked to my dwelling.  No one must know\nthat the stranger is here.\"\n\n\"If Abishai heard of it, even your roof would not protect the youth,\"\nsaid Zarah, turning pale at the thought of a repetition, in the sacred\nprecincts of home, of the horrible scene of the previous night.  \"Oh,\nmother, think you that the stranger will live?\"\n\n\"He may; youth can swim through stormy waters,\" replied Hadassah;\n\"but--may I be forgiven the inhospitable thought!--I would that the\nGreek had come to any other house rather than to mine.\"\n\n\"So few visitors ever seek this spot--so few strangers ever pass it--we\nlead lives so retired--we can, better than most, conceal a guest,\"\nobserved Zarah.\n\nThe brow of Hadassah was clouded still.  In that small dwelling, with a\nfair girl under her care, the widow lady was unwilling to harbour for\nweeks, or more probably months, a man, and that man a Gentile.\nAnxiously she revolved the matter in her mind, but no other course\nseemed to open before her.  She could not be guilty of the cruelty of\nturning the helpless sufferer out to die.\n\n\"On Abishai's account,\" said Hadassah, \"I dare not seek out the friends\nof the Greek, if friends he have in Jerusalem, and ask them to bear him\nthence.  To do that, after Abishai's murderous attempt on his life,\nwould be to deliver over Miriam's husband to the executioner's sword.\nThis young man is bound alike by honour and gratitude to preserve\nsilence as to what passed by the grave; but there is nothing to prevent\nhim from seeking, and much to induce him to seek, retribution on a\nwould-be assassin, who violated the pledge of safety given to the\nGreek.  Would, I repeat, that this stranger had come to any house\nrather than mine!\"\n\n\"Mother, remember your dream!\" exclaimed Zarah, who, in the secret\ndepths of her heart, did not share Hadassah's regret.  Compassion for\nthe suffering--admiration for the beautiful and brave,--combined to\nawaken in the maiden strong interest in the fate of the stranger.\nZarah was well pleased that her grandmother's hospitality should be to\nhim some reparation for a deep wrong sustained from one of her family.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Hadassah, thoughtfully; \"that dream must have been sent to\nprepare me for this.  The Lord hath given me a work to perform, and He\nwill not let His servant suffer for striving to do His bidding.  The\nwounded stranger, Gentile though he be, needs hospitality, and I dare\nnot refuse it.  If the Lord hath guided him to the home of Hadassah,\nthe Lord will send a blessing with him.\"  And trying to stifle her\nmisgivings, the widow lady returned to her guest.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nTHE JOURNEY HOME.\n\nBefore the sun had risen above the horizon on that day, Judas, son of\nMattathias, of the noble family of the Asmoneans, started on his long\nhomeward journey.  He had not re-entered Jerusalem during the night;\nalmost as soon as he, with the assistance of Joab and Isaac, two of his\ncompanions, had filled up with earth the grave of the martyrs, he had\nskirted the city from the east to the west, and turned his face towards\nModin.\n\nIt would scarcely have been deemed by any one who might have seen the\nprincely Hebrew ascending the western hill with his quick, firm tread,\nthat the greater part of the preceding night had been spent by him in\nsevere toil, and none in sleep.  His soul, filled with a lofty purpose,\nso mastered the infirmities of the flesh, that the Asmonean seemed to\nhimself scarcely capable of feeling fatigue, and set out, without\nhesitation, on a journey which would have severely taxed the powers of\na strong pedestrian after long uninterrupted repose.\n\nAs he reached the highest point of one of these hills which stand round\nJerusalem, like guardians of the holy and beautiful city, Judas paused\nand turned round to take what he felt might be a last look of Zion,\nover which the sun was about to rise.  He gazed on the fair towers, the\ngirdling walls, the sepulchres in the valleys, the temple crowning the\nheight, with that intense love which glows in the bosom of every Hebrew\ndeserving the name, a love in which piety mingles with patriotism,\nglorious memories with still more glorious hopes.  From the Asmonean's\nlips burst the words in which the Psalmist has embalmed that love for\nall generations,--_Beautiful for situation, the joy of the whole earth,\nis Mount Zion, the city of the great King.  Mark ye well her bulwarks,\nconsider her palaces; that ye may tell it to the generation following.\nPray for the peace of Jerusalem: they shall prosper that love thee.\nPeace be within thy walls, and prosperity within thy palaces.  If I\nforget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning; if I do\nnot remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth_.\n\nFaith was to the Asmonean as the rosy glow preceding the sunrise, which\nthen flushed the eastern sky.  His eye rested on the Temple; now\ndesecrated, defiled, abandoned to the Gentile, and he remembered the\npromise regarding it: _The Lord whom ye seek, shall suddenly come, to\nHis Temple, even the Messenger of the Covenant whom ye delight in_\n(Mal. iii. 8).  Then the Hebrew's gaze wandered beyond to a fair hill,\nclothed with verdure, and his faith grasped the promise of God: _Then\nshall the Lord go forth ... and His feet shall stand in that day upon\nthe Mount of Olives_ (Zech. xiv. 3, 4).  Hope and joy were kindled at\nthe thought.  As surely as the hill itself should remain, so surely\nshould a Temple stand on Mount Zion, till the Messiah should appear\nwithin it.  _God is not a man, that He should lie; neither the son of\nman, that He should repent: hath He said, and shall He not do it?_\n(Num. xxiii. 19).\n\n\"Oh, that the Messiah might come in my day!\" exclaimed the Asmonean;\n\"that my eyes might behold the King in His beauty; that my voice might\njoin the united acclamations of Israel, when the Son of David shall be\nseated on the throne of His fathers, and His enemies shall be made His\nfootstool!  That I might see the whole world worshipping in the\npresence of the Seed of the woman who shall bruise the serpent's head!\"\n(Gen. iii. 15).  The Hebrew grasped his javelin more firmly, and his\ndark eye dilated with joy and triumph.  \"But the night is not yet past\nfor Israel,\" he added, more sadly; \"the voice is not yet _heard in the\nwilderness, Prepare ye the way of the Lord_ (Isa. xl. 8); we may have\nyet much to do and to suffer ere the Sun of Righteousness arise.\"\n\nThen a softened expression stole over the features of the Asmonean, as\nhe gazed in another direction, but still with his face turned towards\nthe east.  He could not see a white dwelling nestling under the shadow\nof a hill, but he knew well where it lay, and where she abode to whom\nhe had bidden on that night a long, perhaps a last, farewell.  The\nAsmonean stretched out his hand, and exclaimed, \"Oh!  Father of the\nfatherless, guard and bless her!  To Thy care I commit the treasure of\nmy soul!\"  And without trusting himself to linger longer, Judas turned\nand went on his way.\n\nIt was the month of Shebet, answering to the latter part of our\nJanuary, and Palestine was already bright with the beauty of early\nspring.  The purple mandrake was in flower, the crocus, tulip, and\nhyacinth enamelled the fields, with the blue lily contrasting with\nthousands of scarlet anemones.  The almond-tree and the peach were in\nflower, and fragrant sighed the breeze over blossoms of lemon and\ncitron.  The winter had this year been mild, and some figs left from\nthe last season still clung to the boughs yet bare of foliage.  The\nvine on the terraced hills was bursting into leaf, and already in the\nfields the rising corn showed its young blades above the ground.  But\nJudas was too much absorbed with his own thoughts to pay much attention\nto the landscape around him; with Israel the spiritual winter was not\nover, her time for the singing of birds had not come.\n\nOnwards pressed the traveller without resting, till at about noonday he\nreached the valley of Ajalon.  There was a fountain by the side of the\nroad, and here the weary man slaked his thirst, and sat down for awhile\nto rest beneath the shade of some date-palms.  The Asmonean took from\nthe scrip which he carried his simple repast of dried figs, laved his\nbrow and hands in the cooling water, blessed God for his food, and\nbegan to eat.\n\nEre many minutes had elapsed, a woman in the widow's garb of mourning,\nbearing a child of about six years old on her back, dragged her weary\nsteps to the fountain by which the traveller was seated.  She placed\nher boy on the ground, drank of the water herself, and gave to her son\nto drink.  Her appearance denoted extreme poverty, and the child was\nevidently suffering from sickness.\n\nJudas divided this slender supply of provisions into three portions,\nand with the courteous salutation of \"Peace be with you,\" offered one\nto the widow, and one to the boy.\n\n\"The blessing of the God of Abraham be with you!\" exclaimed the poor\nwoman; \"your servant hath not tasted food since sunset.\"  And, seated\non the turf not far from Judas, the widow and her son partook of the\ndried figs with the eagerness of those who are well-nigh famished.\n\n\"Your child looks ill,\" observed the Asmonean, regarding with\ncompassion the wasted shrunken frame of the boy.\n\n\"He will not suffer long,\" replied the widow, with the calm apathy of\ndespair.  \"I laid his father's head in the grave last month, and I\nshall lay Terah's head beside him this month.  The seal of death is\nupon him; I shall soon be alone in the world.\"\n\n\"Nay, despair not, God is good; the child may yet live,\" said Judas.\n\n\"Why should I wish him to live,\" murmured the widow.  \"His father was\ntaken from the evil to come, the boy will be taken from the evil to\ncome.  Jerusalem is defiled, the land is in bondage, Israel is given a\nprey to the heathen!  The faithful are few in the land, and persecution\nwill sweep these few away.  There is no resting-place but under the\nsod, no freedom but in the grave.  The name of Judah will soon be\nblotted out from amongst the nations!\"\n\n\"Never!\" exclaimed Judas, with energy; \"never, while the God of Truth\nlives and reigns!  Judah can never perish.  The vine that was brought\nout of Egypt may be broken, her branches torn away, her fruit\nscattered, the boar out of the wood may waste it, and the wild beast of\nthe field devour, but yet _Israel shall blossom and bud, and fill the\nface of the world with fruit_ (Isa. xxvii. 6).  Were but one man left\nof God's chosen people, yet from that one man should spring the\nDeliverer who shall yet speak peace to the nations, and reign for ever\nand ever!\"\n\n\"Could I but hope--\" faltered the widow.\n\n\"Can you not _believe_?\" exclaimed the Asmonean.  \"See yonder--look to\nthe east--there is Gibeon, over which the sun stayed at the voice of\nJoshua; over this valley of Ajalon hung the moon arrested in her course\nin the day when the Amorites fled before Israel.  He who raised up\nMoses, Joshua, and Gideon, can by human instruments, or without them,\nrepeat the miracles wrought of old, and again deliver His people.\"\n\nAs he concluded the last sentence, the Asmonean rose to continue his\njourney; he could give his weary limbs but little time for rest, for\nlong was the distance which he yet had to traverse.\n\n\"My home is but a furlong further on,\" said the widow, also rising,\n\"and I have again strength to go forward.\"\n\nShe was about to lift up her boy, but Judas prevented her.  \"I can\nrelieve you of that burden,\" he said, and raised the child on his\nshoulders.\n\nThey had proceeded for some way in silence, the widow pondering over\nthe speech of the wayfaring man, when from behind was heard the clatter\nof hoofs and the jingle of steel.  The child, whom the Asmonean was\ncarrying, turned to gaze, and exclaimed in fear as he grasped the locks\nof his protector, \"See--horsemen in bright armour, with banners and\nspears! fly, fly!--the Syrians are coming!\"\n\nJudas did not turn nor alter his pace, he merely went closer to the\nside of the cactus-bordered road, to give more space to the horsemen to\npass him.  On rode the Syrians in goodly array, their steel glittering\nin the sunlight, the dust rising like a cloud around the hoofs of their\nhorses.  In the centre of the line was a gorgeous arabah, or covered\ncart with curtains, to which the troop of soldiers appeared to form an\nescort.  There was an opening in the roof of this arabah, evidently for\nthe convenience of accommodating within it a figure too high to be\notherwise carried in the conveyance, for out of the opening appeared a\nwhite marble head of Grecian statuary.  Judas and his companion\nregarded it with the aversion and horror with which the sight of an\nidol always inspired pious Jews.\n\nWhen the Syrians had passed the travellers, and the clatter of their\narms had died away in the distance, the widow wrung her hands and\nexclaimed, \"Yonder ride Apelles and his men of war to Modin, to do the\nbidding of the tyrant; and they bear the accursed thing with them, to\nbe set up on high and worshipped.  Alas! they will compel all the\nHebrews at Modin to bow down to their idol of stone.\"\n\n\"Perhaps not,\" said Judas, calmly.\n\n\"All men will be forced to offer sacrifice,\" cried the woman; \"there\nwill be no way of escaping the pollution.\"\n\n\"Solomona and her sons found one way,\" observed the Asmonean, \"and God\nmay provide yet another.\"\n\nThe traveller had now reached the door of the widow's humble dwelling.\nJudas set down his living burden, and the mother thanked the kind\nstranger, and asked him to come in and rest.\n\n\"I cannot abide here,\" replied Judas; \"a long journey is yet before me;\nI must be at Modin this night.\"\n\n\"At Modin!\" exclaimed the astonished woman, glancing up at the worn\nweary countenance of the speaker.  \"Why, the horsemen will scarcely\nreach Modin this night, unless, indeed, the king's business be urgent.\"\n\n\"My King's business is urgent,\" said the Asmonean, as he tightened his\ngirdle around him, and with a grave, courteous salutation to the woman,\nhe went on his way.\n\nThe widow watched his princely form for some time in silence, then\nexclaimed, \"That can be none other than Judas, the son of Mattathias;\nthere is not a second Hebrew such as he.  Ah, my Terah,\" she added,\naddressing herself to her son, \"there is a man whom the Syrians will\nnot frighten.\"\n\n\"He will rather frighten the Syrians,\" said the boy.\n\nMany a time was that childish saying repeated in after-days, as if it\nhad been prophetic, when Judah had long had rest from her foes, and\nTerah himself was an old man.  When he sat beneath his own vine and\nfig-tree, no man making him afraid, he never wearied describing to his\ngrand-children that form which had made the earliest impression which\nhis memory had retained.  He would speak with kindling enthusiasm of\nthe princely man who had taken him in his arms and carried him on his\nshoulders--who had been as tender to a sick child, as he had afterwards\nbeen terrible to Israel's foes.\n\nThe sun had just sunk when the foot of the Asmonean trod the green\nvalley of Sharon.  It was well that from thence every step of the way\nwas familiar to Judas, for he had soon no light but that of the stars\nto guide him.  The wind was rising; it rustled amidst the tamarisks,\nand shook the leafy crests of the evergreen palms; it bore to the ear\nof the almost exhausted traveller the wild howl of the jackals, rising\nhigher and higher in pitch, like the wail of a human being in distress.\nWeary indeed and footsore was the Asmonean, but still he bravely\npressed forward, till at length he heard the welcome sound of the waves\nof the Mediterranean lashing the coast near which stood Modin, about an\nEnglish mile from the town of Joppa.\n\nThankful was Judas to reach his father's home, where, the heavy strain\nupon his powers being for awhile relaxed, he slept the deep sweet sleep\nof the weary, after a journey which could have been accomplished on\nfoot in a single day only by a man possessing great powers of\nendurance, as well as physical strength.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nTHE FIRST STRUGGLE.\n\nThe arrival of Apelles, the emissary of Antiochus Epiphanes, had thrown\nthe town of Modin into a state of great excitement.  A proclamation was\nmade in the morning of the following day, that all the inhabitants,\nmen, women, and children, should assemble in the market-place at noon,\nto obey the mandate of the king, by worshipping at an altar of Bacchus,\nwhich was erected at that spot.  \"Curses, not loud but deep,\" were\nmuttered in many a Hebrew home.  Some of the Syrian soldiers had been\nquartered for the night with the inhabitants of Modin.  The fatted calf\nhad to be killed, the best wine poured out, for idolatrous guests whose\nvery presence polluted a banquet.  The Syrians repaid the reluctant\nhospitality of their hosts by recital of all the horrors of the\npersecution in Jerusalem.  They told of the barbarities perpetrated on\nSolomona and her sons; shuddering women clasped their children closer\nto their bosoms as they heard how two mothers had been flung from the\nbattlements at the south side of the Temple, with their infants hung\nround their necks, because they had dedicated those martyr babes to God\nin the way commanded by Moses.  Such examples of cruelty struck terror\ninto the hearts of all whose faith and courage were not strong.  It was\nevident that Antiochus was terribly in earnest, and that if his wrath\nwere aroused by opposition, the horrors which had been witnessed at\nJerusalem might be repeated at Modin.  The plea of terrible necessity\nhalf silenced the consciences of many Hebrews who secretly abhorred the\nrites of the heathen.  A quantity of ivy was gathered, and twined by\nunwilling hands, to be worn in honour of the false deity whose worship\nwas to be forced upon a reluctant people.\n\nA lofty shrine on which was raised a marble image of the god of wine,\nwith his temples crowned with ivy, a bunch of grapes in his hand, and\nsensuality stamped on every feature, was erected in the centre of the\nmarket-place.  Before it was the altar of sacrifice, and around this,\nas the hour of noon approached, collected a motley crowd.  There were\nthe white-robed priests of Bacchus, with the victims chosen for\nsacrifice.  Men of war, both on foot and on horseback, formed a\nsemicircle about the shrine, to enforce, if necessary, compliance with\nthe decree of the Syrian monarch.  Apelles himself, magnificently\nattired, with tunic of Tyrian purple, jewelled sandals, and fringes of\ngold, sat on a lofty seat on the right side of the altar, awaiting the\nappointed time when the sun should reach his meridian height.  Numbers\nof people filled the market-place, of both sexes, and of every age, for\nthe soldiery had swept through Modin, forcing all the inhabitants to\nquit their dwellings and assemble to offer sacrifice upon the altar of\nBacchus.\n\nDirectly opposite to the altar there was one group of Hebrews\nconspicuous above all the rest, and towards this group the eyes of the\nassembled people were frequently turned.  There stood Mattathias, with\nsnowy beard descending to his girdle--a venerable patriarch, surrounded\nby his five stalwart sons.  There appeared Johannan, the first-born;\nSimon, with his calm intellectual brow; Eleazar, with his quick glance\nof fire; Jonathan; and Judas, third in order of birth, but amongst\nthose illustrious brethren already first in fame.  In stern silence the\nAsmonean family watched the preparations made by the Syrian priests to\ncelebrate their unhallowed rites.  Not a word escaped the lips of the\nHebrews; they stood almost as motionless as statues, only their glances\nbetraying the secret indignation of their souls.\n\nMattathias, as a direct descendant of Aaron through Phineas, and a man\nof great wisdom and spotless integrity, possessed great influence\nwithin his native city of Modin.  Disputes were referred to his\ndecision, his judgment was appealed to in cases of difficulty, and his\nexample was likely to carry with it greater weight than that of any\nother man in Judaea.  Apelles was perfectly aware of this.  \"Mattathias\nonce gained, all is gained,\" the Syrian courtier had said to the king\nbefore departing on his mission to Modin; \"the old man's sons have no\nlaw but his will, and if the Asmoneans bow their heads in worship, all\nJudaea will join in offering sacrifice to your gods.\"\n\nAnxious to win over by soft persuasions the only Hebrews whose\nopposition could cause any difficulty in the execution of the king's\ncommands, when the hour for offering sacrifice had almost arrived,\nApelles descended from his seat of state, and approached the Asmonean\ngroup.  This unexpected movement of the Syrian awakened eager attention\namongst the assembled crowds.\n\n\"Venerable Mattathias,\" said Apelles, saluting the old man with stately\ncourtesy, \"your high position, your wide-spread fame, entitle you to\nthe place of leader in performing the solemn act by which Modin at once\ndeclares her fealty to our mighty monarch, Antiochus Epiphanes, and her\ndevotion to the worship of Bacchus.  Now, therefore, come you first and\nfulfil the king's commandment, like as all the heathen have done, yea,\nand the men of Judah also, and such as remain at Jerusalem; so shall\nyou and your house be in the number of the king's friends, and you and\nyour children shall be honoured with silver and gold and many rewards.\"\nWhen the Syrian had ceased speaking, the silence amongst the expectant\npeople was so profound that the roll of the billows on the beach, and\nthe scream of a white-winged sea-bird, could be distinctly heard.\n\nSternly the old man had heard Apelles to the end; then fixing upon him\nthe keen eyes which flashed under the white overhanging brows, like\nvolcano fire bursting from beneath a mountain crest of snow, he\nreplied, in tones so loud that they rang all over the market-place,\n\"Though all the nations that are under the king's dominion obey him,\nand fall away every one from the religion of their fathers, and give\nconsent to his commandments, yet will I and my sons and my brethren\nwalk in the covenant of our fathers.  God forbid that we should forsake\nthe law and the ordinances!  We will not hearken to the king's words to\ngo from our religion, either on the right hand or the left.\"\n\nHardly had the brave words died on the ears of those who heard them,\nwhen, in strange contrast, there sounded a hymn in honour of Bacchus,\nand, gaily dressed and crowned with ivy, a wretched apostate Jew, eager\nto win the king's favour by being the first to obey his will, came\nforward singing towards the altar.  All the blood of Phineas boiled in\nthe veins of his descendant; was the Lord of Hosts to be thus openly\ninsulted, His judgments thus impiously defied!  Forward sprang the old\nAsmonean, as if once more endowed with youth, one moment his dagger\nglittered in the sunlight, the next moment the apostate groaned out his\nsoul upon the altar of Bacchus!\n\nTo execute justice in this summary manner, and before all the people,\nwas indeed to draw the sword and throw the scabbard away.  A fierce\nshout for vengeance arose from the Syrian soldiers, and their ranks\nclosed around Mattathias, but not around him alone.  Not for a minute\nhad his sons deserted his side, and now, like lions at bay, they united\nin the defence of their father.  Nor were they to maintain the struggle\nunaided.  There were Hebrews amongst the assembled crowds to whom the\nvoice of Mattathias had been as the trumpet-call to the war-horse;\nthere were men who counted their holy faith as dearer than life.\nThese, with shouts, rushed to the rescue, and the market-place of Modin\nbecame the scene of a hand-to-hand desperate struggle, where discipline\nand numbers on the one side, devotion, heroism, and a good cause on the\nother, maintained a fearful strife.  Though sharp, it was but a brief\none.  The fight was thickest near the altar--around it flowed the blood\nof human victims; there the powerful arm of Judas laid Apelles lifeless\nin the dust.  This was the crisis of the struggle, for at the fall of\ntheir leader the Syrians were seized with sudden panic.  The horses,\nwhose trappings had glittered so gaily, were either urged by their\nriders to frantic speed, or dashed with emptied saddles through the\nthrong, to carry afar the news of defeat.  Flight was all that was left\nto the troops of Antiochus or the priests of Bacchus, and few succeeded\nin making their escape, for many Jews who had stood aloof from the\nstruggle joined in the pursuit.  The very women caught up stones from\nthe path to fling at the flying foe; children's voices swelled the loud\nshout of triumph.  The altar of Bacchus was thrown down with wild\nexultation; the idol was broken to pieces, and its fragments were\nrolled in the blood-stained dust.  Those Jews who had shown most fear\nan hour before, now by more furious zeal tried to efface from other\nminds and their own the memory of their former submission.  One spirit\nseemed to animate all--the spirit of freedom!  Modin had arisen like\nSamson, when he snapped the green withes and went forth to the fight\nwith the strength of a giant.\n\nBut this was an ebullition of zeal likely to be more fiery than\nlasting.  Mattathias little trusted that courage which only follows in\nthe train of success.  The old man knew that the struggle with the\npower of Syria was only commencing; that it would probably be long\nprotracted, and that it would be impracticable to defend Modin against\nthe hosts which would soon be sent to assail it.  The patriarch stood\nin the centre of the market-place, with his foot on the fragments of\nthe broken altar, and once more his loud clear voice rang far and wide.\n\"Whosoever is zealous of the law, and maintaineth the Covenant, let him\nfollow me!  Let us away to the mountains, ye men of Judah!\"\n\nHow many of the inhabitants of Modin obeyed the call? how many resolved\nto leave city and home, to dwell with the beasts in the caves of the\nmountains?  History relates that but a little band of ten, inclusive of\nthe Asmoneans, by retiring to the fastnesses of the mountains, formed\nthe nucleus of that brotherhood of heroes who were to wrest victory\nafter victory from the hosts of Syria, and win that unsullied fame\nwhich belongs only to those who display firm endurance and devoted\ncourage in a righteous and holy cause.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\nHADASSAH'S GUEST.\n\nIn no place were the tidings of the rising at Modin received with\ngreater exultation than in the lonely dwelling of Hadassah.  The Hebrew\nwidow could hardly refrain from taking down the timbrel from the wall,\nand bursting, like Miriam, into song.  \"_Sing unto the Lord, for He\nhath triumphed gloriously!  He hath dashed to pieces the enemy!_\"\n\nConstant information of what was occurring, every rumour, true or\nfalse, whether of victory or of failure, was brought to Hadassah by her\nson-in-law, Abishai, who little dreamed that every word which he\nuttered was overheard by the wounded Athenian, from whom he was divided\nbut by the partitioning curtain!\n\nIn one of his visits to Hadassah, Abishai told how Judas had in the\nmountains raised a standard, which bore the inscription, \"Who is like\nunto Thee among the gods, O Jehovah!\"\n\n\"It is said,\" observed Abishai, \"that from the initial letters of this\ninscription the word MACCABEUS is formed, and that by this new title\nJudas is commonly called; it is a name which the Syrians will soon have\ncause to dread.\"\n\n\"It is a well-chosen name!\" cried Hadassah.  \"Let the Asmonean be\ncalled _Makke-baiah_ (a conqueror in the Lord), for doubtless the God\nwhom he serves will give to him the victory!\"\n\nThe triumphant joy of the patriotic Hadassah received a painful check\nwhen she heard some time afterwards from Abishai of the grievous\nsacrifice of the lives of a thousand faithful Hebrews, who had taken\nrefuge in a cave at no great distance from Jerusalem.  Being attacked\nthere on the Sabbath-day by the Syrians, these Hebrews had actually let\nthemselves be slaughtered without resistance, rather than incur sin (as\nthey thought) by breaking the Fourth Commandment!  Grieved at this\nwaste of precious life, it was a relief to Hadassah to learn that such\na sacrifice to a mistaken sense of duty would not be repeated; for when\nthe tidings had reached Mattathias and his sons, they had bitterly\nmourned for their slaughtered countrymen, and had said one to another,\n\"If we all do as our brethren have done, and fight not for our lives\nand laws, against the heathen, they will quickly root us out of the\nearth.\"  A decree, therefore, was sent forth from the camp in the\nmountains, that to Hebrews attacked on the Sabbath-day, self-defence\nwas lawful and right.\n\nIn the meantime, under the care of Hadassah, the wounds of Lycidas were\ngradually healing.  Never to any man had confinement and suffering been\nmore sweetened, for was he not near to Zarah; did he not hear the soft\nmusic of her voice, breathe the same air, even see her light form\ngliding past the entrance of his hiding-place, though the maiden never\nentered it?  The necessity of concealing the presence of Lycidas, above\nall from the blood-thirsty Abishai, compelled the closing during the\ndaytime of the door at the back of the dwelling which opened on the\nsmall piece of ground behind.  Peasants or travellers would\noccasionally, though rarely, come to fill their pitchers or slake their\nthirst at the little fountain gushing from the hill, and had the door\nof what Lycidas playfully called his \"den\" been open, there would have\nbeen nothing to prevent strangers from seeing or entering within.  The\nwhole ventilation of the confined space occupied by the invalid\ndepended therefore during the day-time on its communication with the\nfront room, which might be called the only public apartment, and in\nwhich not only food was now prepared and taken, and the occasional\nguest received, but in which the Hebrew ladies pursued their daily\navocations.  Here Zarah would pursue her homely occupation of spinning,\nand Hadassah copy out on rolls of vellum portions from the Law and the\nProphets.  This latter occupation was fraught with peril; and had\nHadassah been discovered in the act of transcribing from the sacred\npages, it might have cost her her life.  Antiochus had eagerly sought\nto destroy all copies of the Scriptures, or to profane them by having\nvile pictures painted on the margins.  To possess--far more to copy\nout--God's Holy Word was now a capital offence.  But the faith of\nHadassah seemed to raise her above all personal fear; the peril\nconnected with her pious labours made her but more earnestly pursue\nthem.  The presence of the young Gentile in her dwelling was a source\nof far greater uneasiness to the widow, than any danger which\nthreatened herself.\n\nHad Hadassah been able to seclude her patient entirely, she would\nwillingly have discharged the duties of hospitality towards him; but\nsuch seclusion the scanty accommodation of her dwelling would have\nrendered impossible, even had Lycidas been willing to submit to perfect\nisolation.  But this was by no means the case.  Not only did he require\nthe curtain frequently to be drawn back to enable him freely to\nbreathe; but the Greek, as his strength increased, was eager to be seen\nas well as to see, and to speak as well as to listen.  No anxious\nwarnings of danger to be apprehended from the sudden entrance of\nAbishai could prevent Lycidas from dragging his languid limbs beyond\nthe limits which the curtain defined, and joining in social converse.\nLycidas resolutely shut his eyes to the fact that, to his hostess at\nleast, his presence was unwelcome.  He deceived himself into the belief\nthat he was rather repaying the kindness which he had received, by\nlightening the dulness of the secluded lives led by the Hebrew ladies.\nThe young Athenian drew forth for their amusement all the rich stores\nof his cultivated mind.  Now he recited wondrous tales of other lands;\nnow gave vivid descriptions of adventures of his own; poetry flowed\nspontaneously from his lips like a stream--now sparkling with fancy,\nnow deepening into pathos; Lycidas had in Athens been compared to\nApollo, as much for his mental gifts as his singular personal beauty.\n\nTo the brilliant conversation of the stranger, so unlike what she ever\nhad heard before, Zarah listened with innocent pleasure.  She was ever\nobedient to her aged relative, and often did Hadassah's bidding in the\nupper rooms of the dwelling, even when it seemed to the maiden that she\nwas sent on needless errands; but the light form, in its simple blue\ngarment, with the long linen veil thrown back from the graceful head,\nwas always returning to the apartment, to which it was drawn by a new\nand powerful attraction.  If Hadassah sometimes appeared irritable and\nimperious towards the fair young being whom she loved, it was because\nher mind was disturbed, her rest broken by anxieties which she could\nimpart to no one.  The aged lady scarcely knew which evil she most\ndreaded: the discovery of Lycidas by Abishai--a discovery which would\ninevitably stain her threshold with blood--or the long sojourn under\nher roof of the dangerous stranger, whom she had unwillingly admitted,\nand now more unwillingly retained in her home.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\nDEATH OF MATTATHIAS.\n\nWild was the life led by Mattathias and his followers in the\nmountains--a life of danger and hardship; danger met manfully, hardship\nendured cheerfully.  Amongst wild rocks, heaped together like the\nfragments of an elder world torn asunder by some fearful convulsion of\nNature, the band of heroes found their home.  Where the hyaena has its\nden, and the leopard its lair; where the timid wabber or coney hides in\nthe stony clefts, there the Hebrews lurked in caves, and manned the\ngigantic fastnesses which no human hands had reared, and from which it\nwould be no easy task for any enemy to dislodge them.\n\nThe small band that had rallied round Mattathias when he withdrew from\nModin, had been soon joined by other bold and zealous sons of Abraham,\nand the mountains became a place of refuge to many who fled from\npersecution.  As numbers increased, so did the difficulty of procuring\nmeans of subsistence.  The Asmoneans and their followers chiefly lived\nupon roots.  The less hardy of the band suffered severely from the\nchill of the frosts, the keenness of the sharp mountain air, the sharp\nwinds that blew over snow-clad heights.  But no voice of complaint was\nheard.  Frequent forays were made into the plains; idol-altars were\nthrown down, forts were burnt, detachments of Syrians cut off.  None of\nthe enemy within many miles of the rocky haunts of the Asmoneans lay\ndown to rest at night feeling secure from sudden attack during the\nhours of darkness; and oft-times the early morning light showed a heap\nof smouldering ruins where, on the evening before, the banners of Syria\nhad waved on the walls of some well-manned fortress.\n\nTo the bold spirit of Maccabeus there was something congenial in the\nadventurous kind of existence which he led, and yet he was not one who\nwould have adopted a guerrilla life from choice.  As even in a hard and\nrocky waste there are spots where rich vegetation betrays some source\nof hidden nourishment below, and they who dig deep enough under the\nsurface find a spring of bright pure living waters,--so deep within the\nAsmonean's heart lay a hidden source of tenderness which prevented his\nnature from becoming hardened by the stern necessities of warfare.\nThis secret affection made the warrior more chivalrous to women, more\nindulgent to the weak, more compassionate to all who suffered.  In the\nmoment of triumph, \"Will not Zarah rejoice?\" was the thought which made\nvictory more sweet; in preservation from imminent danger, the thought,\n\"Zarah has been praying for me,\" made deliverance doubly welcome.  When\nthe evening star gleamed in the sky, its pure soft guiding orb seemed\nto Judas an emblem of Zarah; as he gazed on it, the warrior would\nindulge in delicious musings.  This desperate warfare might not last\nfor ever.  If the Lord of Sabaoth should bless the arms of His\nservants; might not the time come when swords should be beaten into\nploughshares, when children should play fearlessly in pastures which no\noppressor's foot should tread, and the sound of bridal rejoicings be\nheard in the land of the free?  Hopes so intensely delightful would\nthen steal over the Asmonean's soul, that he would suddenly start like\na sentinel who finds himself dropping asleep on his post.  How dared\nthe leader of Israel's forlorn hope indulge in reveries which made him\nfeel how precious a thing life might be to himself, when he had freely\ndevoted that life to the service of God and his country?  When David\nwas engaged in rescuing his flock from the lion and the bear, did he\nstop to gather the lilies of the field?  \"It is well,\" thought Judas\nMaccabeus, \"that I have never told Zarah what is in my heart; if I\nfall, as I shall probably fall, on the field of conflict, I would not\nleave her to the grief of a widow.\"\n\nAn event was at hand which was felt as a heavy blow by all to whom the\ncause of Israel was dear, but more especially so by the Asmonean\nbrethren, who from their childhood had regarded their father with\nreverence and affection.\n\nMattathias was an aged man, and though his spirit never sank under toil\nand hardship, his constitution soon gave way under their effects.  The\npatriarch felt that his days, nay, that his hours, were numbered, and\nsummoned his sons around him to hear his last wishes, and to receive\nhis parting blessing.\n\nIn a cave near the foot of a mountain, stretched upon a soft couch of\nskins of animals slain in the chase, lay the venerable man.  The pallor\nof death was already on his face, but its expression was tranquil and\ncalm.  The aged pilgrim looked like one who feels indeed that he has\nGod's rod and staff to lean on while he is passing through the valley\nof the shadow of death.  The full glare of noonday was glowing on the\nworld without, but softened and subdued was the light which struggled\ninto the cave, and fell on the form of the dying man, and the stalwart\nfigures of the Asmonean brothers bending in mute sorrow around their\nhonoured parent.\n\nMattathias bade his sons raise him a little, that he might speak to\nthem with more ease.  Jonathan and Eleazar, kneeling, supported him in\ntheir arms; while their three brothers, in the same attitude of\nrespect, listened silently at his side to the patriarch's farewell\naddress.\n\nI shall not dare to add words of my own to those which the historian\nhas preserved as the dying utterances of this noble old man--a hero,\nand the father of heroes.  I give them as they fell upon the ears of\nJudas Maccabeus and his brothers, who received them as Joseph received\nthe parting blessing of Israel.\n\n\"Now hath pride and rebuke gotten strength, and the time of\ndestruction, and the wrath of indignation.  Now, therefore, my sons, be\nye zealous for the law, and give your lives for the covenant of your\nfathers.  Call to remembrance what acts our fathers did in their time,\nso shall ye receive great honour and an everlasting name.\n\n\"Was not Abraham found faithful in temptation, and it was imputed unto\nhim for righteousness.  Elias, for being zealous and fervent for the\nlaw, was taken up into heaven.  Ananias, Azarias, and Misael, by\nbelieving, were saved out of the flame.  Daniel, for his innocence, was\ndelivered from the mouth of the lion.  And thus, consider ye,\nthroughout all ages, that none that put their trust in Him shall be\novercome.  Wherefore, ye my sons, be valiant, and show yourselves men\nin behalf of the law; for by it ye shall obtain glory.\"\n\nThe old man paused, as if to gather strength, and then stretching forth\nhis wasted hand towards Simon, his second son, he went on:\n\n\"Behold, I know that your brother Simon is a man of counsel; give ear\nunto him alway; he shall be a father unto you.\"\n\nThen the hand was again extended, and this time laid on the bowed head\nof Maccabeus:\n\n\"As for Judas Maccabeus,\" said the dying man, in firmer accents, as if\nthe very name inspired him with vigour, \"he hath been mighty and\nstrong, even from his youth up; let him be your captain, and fight the\nbattle of the people.\"\n\nThere was no murmur of dissent, not even a glance of jealousy from the\neye of the generous Johannan, when his younger brothers were thus\npreferred before him, as superior in those qualities with which leaders\nshould be endowed.  Johannan knew, and was content to acknowledge, that\nthe wisdom of Simon and the military talents of Judas far exceeded his\nown; he would serve with them, and serve under them, cheerfully\nsubmissive to the will of God and the counsels of his father.  We find\nnot the slightest trace of jealous rivalry amongst that glorious band\nof brethren, who all shared the privilege of suffering--three of\ndying--for their country.\n\nThen, after solemnly blessing his five sons, Mattathias departed in\npeace, as one who has fought a good fight, and kept the faith to the\nend.  Great lamentation was made throughout Judaea for him in whom the\nnation had lost a parent.  The sons of Mattathias carried his body to\nModin, and buried it in the sepulchre of his fathers.\n\nIn after-times of prosperity and peace Simon raised a fair monument of\nmarble, in the form of seven lofty pillars, which could be seen from\nafar by those sailing over the blue waters of the Mediterranean.  The\nAsmonean prince placed this memorial there in honour of his parents and\ntheir five sons, after Jonathan, Eleazar, and Judas Maccabeus had\nsealed with their brave blood the testimony of their devotion to the\ncause of faith and of freedom.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\nCONCEALMENT.\n\nWe will now return to the quiet dwelling-place of Hadassah, where\nLycidas day by day was becoming more hopelessly entangled in the silken\nmeshes which kept him a willing captive in the Hebrew home.  The very\ndanger of his position served to add to its charms; it was with keen\ngratification that the Greek marked the anxiety which Zarah felt on his\naccount.  Whenever Lycidas emerged from his \"den,\" Zarah kept careful\nwatch as she sat at her wheel near the front entrance of the dwelling,\nready to give timely notice of the approach of any intruder.  The wave\nof the maiden's hand gave sufficient warning to the Greek.  The view\nfrom the doorway commanded a long enough tract of road to render it\nimpossible for any visitor to enter the house so suddenly as to prevent\nLycidas, thus warned, from having time to retreat behind his curtain.\n\nAn occasion, however, arose when the gentle sentinel was at last found\noff her guard.  Resting on his arm, with his form half reclining on the\nfloor, Lycidas was giving to Hadassah an account of the defence of\nThermopylae, while his eyes were fixed on Zarah, who sat listening with\nher whole attention absorbed by the thrilling tale, when Abishai,\nbreathless with excitement, rushed so suddenly into the house that\nZarah was not aware of his coming in time to give her accustomed\nsignal.  It was Hadassah who heard the sound of rapid footsteps, though\nnot till they had almost crossed the threshold.  With great presence of\nmind the widow flung over Lycidas a large striped mantle of goat-hair,\nwhich she was preparing for Judas Maccabeus, should any opportunity\narise of conveying it to the Asmonean leader.  Hadassah then shifted\nher position, so as to interpose her own form between her guest and the\ndoor.  These movements were so rapid as to take less time in the action\nthan the narration.\n\n\"Why, child, you look as much startled and terrified as if the Syrians\nwere upon you!\" exclaimed Abishai to Zarah, catching sight of her look\nof terror; his own eyes were flashing with triumph, and his gestures\nbetrayed his excitement as he continued, \"I bring you tidings of\nvictory--glorious victory--achieved by our hero, Judas Maccabeus!\nApollonius--may the graves of his fathers be polluted!--Apollonius, who\ntore down the dwellings near Mount Zion to make fortifications of the\nstones--he himself is laid low!  The murderer, the oppressor, the\ninstrument of a tyrant, and almost more hateful than the tyrant\nhimself, now lies in his gore, and his mighty army has fled before the\nwarriors of Judah!\"\n\n\"The Lord of Hosts be praised!\" exclaimed Hadassah; \"tell us, my son,\nof the fight,\" and she motioned to Abishai to take his seat beside her,\nso that his back should be turned towards Lycidas.  The Jew seated\nhimself so near to the Greek that the folds of his upper garment\ntouched the mantle under which Lycidas lay crouched.  If Abishai but\nmoved his hand a few inches, he must feel that a warm and living form\nwas concealed under the goats' hair stripes.\n\n\"How your cheek changes colour, child!\" exclaimed Abishai, surveying\nwith surprise his young niece, who could not disguise her terror, nor\nprevent her knees from trembling beneath her as she stood in the\ndoorway.  \"You have no cause to fear; Maccabeus is not even wounded.\nApollonius met him in fight, and fell by his hand.  Henceforth Judas,\nit is said, declares that he will always use as his own the sword which\nhe took from the vanquished Syrian.  As David said when he grasped that\nof Goliath, \"There is no weapon like that.\"\n\nZarah scarcely heard the words addressed to her.  One thought possessed\nher mind to the exclusion of every other--the peril of the wounded\nAthenian.  Should any sound or movement betray his presence to her\nfanatic uncle, she knew that the doom of Lycidas would be sealed, for\nhe was yet by far too weak to defend himself with the faintest chance\nof success, and his recumbent position rendered him utterly helpless.\n\nHadassah anxiously watched the countenance of Zarah, and read the\nthoughts passing within.  Fearing that the maiden would faint where she\nstood, Hadassah motioned to her to come closer to her and take her seat\nat her feet.  Zarah obeyed, taking care to be near enough to Abishai to\ncatch him by the knees, and with what little strength she possessed at\nleast to impede his movements should he discover the presence of the\nGreek.\n\n\"Judas has brought great honour to our race,\" exclaimed Abishai, who\nattributed the emotion of his niece to a cause very different from the\nreal one; \"in his acts he is like a lion, and like a lion's whelp\nroaring for his prey.  He has pursued the wicked, and sought them out;\nhe has destroyed the ungodly, thrown down their altars, and turned away\nwrath from Israel.\"\n\n\"He is a mighty instrument in the hands of the Lord,\" said Hadassah.\n\n\"Is he not something more?\" exclaimed Abishai, his manner becoming yet\nmore excited; \"may not the time for the great deliverance be come, and\nthe great Deliverer be amongst us, of whom it is written, _Mine own arm\nbrought salvation unto Me; and My fury, it upheld Me.  And I will tread\ndown the people in Mine anger, and make them drunk in My fury, and I\nwill bring down their strength to the earth_\" (Isa. lxiii. 5, 6).  Wild\nhope gleamed in the Hebrew's fierce eyes as he spoke, and he started\nupright on his feet.\n\n\"Shame to you, son of Nathan,\" said Hadassah with dignity, \"you speak\nlike one who knows not the writings of the Prophets.  He that shall\ncome, the Messiah, is to be of the tribe of Judah, not that of Levi\n(Isa. xi. 1), shall be born at Bethlehem, not at Modin (Mic. v. 11).\nNor have the prophetical weeks of Daniel yet run out.  _Know therefore\nand understand, that from the going forth of the commandment to restore\nand to build Jerusalem unto the Messiah the Prince shall be seven\nweeks, and threescore and two weeks_ (Dan. ix. 25).  The set time is\nnot come.\"\n\nThe wild animation of Abishai sank under the calm rebuke of one who as\nmuch excelled him in knowledge and intellectual power, as he surpassed\nher in physical strength.  He looked abashed at being convicted of\nignorance of prophetic writings.\n\n\"You know, O Hadassah,\" said the Hebrew, \"that I have been from my\nyouth a man of the sword rather than of the book.  Nor can I now study\nif I would.  You are aware how Antiochus has sought out our holy\nwritings to destroy or pollute them.  Save the copy of the Scriptures\nwhich I occasionally see at the house of the elder, Salathiel, when we\nmeet there by stealth to worship God on the Sabbath, my eyes never so\nmuch as look on the roll of the holy Word.\"\n\n\"I have a complete copy of the Psalms and Prophets, and am making from\nit another,\" said Hadassah, intuitively lowering her tone, and glancing\nat the door.\n\n\"A noble but dangerous work!\" cried Abishai.\n\n\"Go and look yonder, my son, glance up the path to the right and the\nleft, see whether any of the heathen be near,\" said Hadassah, pointing\nto the door as she spoke.  \"If none of the enemy be in sight, I will\nshow you the sacred treasure which I hold at risk of my life.\"\n\nAbishai instantly left the dwelling, half closing the door behind him.\n\n\"Now Lycidas--oh, haste!\" exclaimed Zarah in an eager whisper; she was\nterrified lest the opportunity of retreat which Hadassah had given,\nshould be lost by one moment's delay.\n\nThere was no need to repeat the word; Lycidas instantly drew back into\nhis retreat behind the curtain, and the Hebrew ladies could breathe\nmore freely again.  Zarah gave a bright joyous glance at Hadassah, but\nit met no answering smile, the widow's features wore a sad, almost\nindignant expression, the sight of which shot a keen pang through the\ngentle heart of Zarah.  What had she done, what had she said, that her\nvenerated relative should look on her thus?  Had there been aught in\nher conduct unseemly?  She had called the Gentile by his name, could it\nbe that which had drawn upon her the unwonted displeasure of Hadassah?\n\nAs she asked herself such questions, the cheek of Zarah became suffused\nwith crimson; she scarcely knew what caused the painful embarrassment\nwhich she felt; she seemed to herself like one detected in doing evil,\nand yet her conscience had nothing wherewith to reproach her as\nconcerned her conduct towards her grandmother's guest.  So uneasy was\nthe maiden, however, that on Abishai's return she did not stay to hear\nthe conversation which ensued between him and Hadassah, but glided up\nthe outer stair to the roof of the house, where, seated alone on the\nflat roof, with only heaven's blue canopy above her, she could commune\nwith her own heart, and question it regarding the nature of the\ndangerous interest which she felt in the Gentile stranger.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI.\n\nDEEP THINGS.\n\nWhen Abishai re-entered the dwelling of Hadassah, he found her drawing\nforth, from a secret receptacle in the wall, a long roll of parchment,\ncovered with writing in Hebrew characters within and without.  The lady\npressed it reverentially to her lips, and then resumed her seat, with\nthe sacred roll laid across her knees.  Abishai regarded with respect,\nalmost amounting to awe, a woman to whom had been given the talent,\nwisdom, and courage to transcribe so large a portion of the oracles of\nGod.  He felt as Barak may have done towards Deborah, and stood leaning\nagainst the wall, listening with respectful attention to the words of\nthis \"Mother in Israel.\"\n\n\"These Scriptures, my son,\" said Hadassah, \"have been my study by day,\nand my meditation by night; and most earnestly have I sought, with\nfasting and prayer, to penetrate some of their deep meaning in regard\nto Him that shall come.  I am yet as a child in knowledge, but the\nAll-wise may be pleased to reveal something even to a child.  It has\nseemed to me of late that I have been permitted to trace one word,\nwritten as in gigantic shadows--now fainter--now deeper--on Nature, in\nHistory, on the Law, in the Prophets.  That single word is SACRIFICE.\nWherever I turn I see it; it seems to me as a law of being; yea, as the\nvery essence of religion itself.\"\n\n\"I do not understand you,\" said Abishai; \"how is the word Sacrifice\nwritten on Nature?\"\n\n\"See we it not on all things around us?\" replied Hadassah.  \"Does not\nthe seed die that the corn may spring up; doth not the decaying leaf\nnourish the living plant; doth not one creature maintain its existence\nby the destruction of others?  There is a mystery of suffering in this\nfair world, some stern necessity for what we call evil, though from it\na merciful God is ever evolving good.  These things distressed and\nperplexed me, till I could dimly trace that word Sacrifice as written\nby God's finger upon His works; death the parent of life, pain and\nsorrow--of joy!\"\n\n\"The primeval curse is on Nature,\" observed the Hebrew.\n\n\"Linked with the primeval blessing,\" said Hadassah.  \"And now when I\nturn from natural objects to the history of our race, sacrifice and\nsuffering are still ever before me.  Isaac is devoted as a\nburnt-offering before he becomes the father of the chosen race; Joseph\nis sold for pieces of silver ere he can redeem his family from\ndestruction; the storm is only stilled by Jonah's being cast out into\nthe deep; Samson triumphs over the enemy by the sacrifice of his own\nlife!  All these historical facts seem to me as types, dim and shadowy\nindeed, yet legible to the eye of faith, and Sacrifice is the word\nwhich they form.\"\n\n\"Dim and shadowy,\" repeated Abishai, to whom Hadassah's views on the\nsubject appeared somewhat fanciful and vague.\n\n\"If so in Nature and history,\" said the Hebrew lady, \"the lines are\nclear and distinct enough in our holy law.  Why have countless victims\nbeen offered, even from the time of the Fall?  Why was the dying lamb\nof Abel more acceptable than the bloodless offering of Cain?  Why have\nthousands of guiltless creatures been slain on the altar of God; nay,\nnot upon His alone, even on altars of the heathen who have never heard\nof His name, as if there were a deep instinct implanted in the soul of\nman, to testify that without shedding of blood there is no remission of\nsin?  Think we that the All-merciful can take pleasure in the death of\nbulls or of goats?  Yet hath He Himself ordained it.  Sacrifice,\nsuffering, substitution, one life accepted as ransom for another, this\nidea pervades the law given by inspiration to Moses; yea, long before\nthe birth of Moses, to Abraham, to Noah, to Abel!\"\n\n\"I grant it,\" Abishai replied.  \"As man is guilty in the sight of his\nMaker, there must be sacrifice for sin as long as the world shall last.\"\n\nThe light of inspiration seemed to glow in the uplifted eyes of\nHadassah, and her lips to breathe words not her own as she spoke again.\n\"What if all these sacrifices but point to one great Sacrifice; what if\nthe deep mystery of suffering be resolved into some deeper mystery of\nlove; what if God Himself should provide the substitute, and if on some\naltar blood be shed which shall suffice to atone for transgressions\npast, present, and to come, even to the end of all time?  May it not\nbe--must it not so be--if we read the Scriptures aright?\"\n\n\"I cannot divine your meaning,\" said Abishai.\n\n\"What is written here of the coming Messiah?\" asked Hadassah, laying\nher hand on the roll of prophecy, as she turned her earnest, searching\ngaze upon her companion.\n\n\"That He shall rule the nations with a rod of iron, and break them in\npieces like a potter's vessel!\" exclaimed Abishai with exultation; \"is\nHe not named Messiah the Prince?\"\n\n\"Who shall be _cut off, but not for Himself_\" (Dan. ix. 26), said\nHadassah, in low thrilling tones that made Abishai start, and look at\nher with surprise.  \"You,\" she continued, \"see the PRINCE in prophecy,\nwritten as in characters of light; I see the SACRIFICE, ever in letters\nof deepening shadow.  Behold here,\"--and as the widow spoke, she opened\nthe roll till her finger could point to the Twenty-second Psalm,--\"what\nmeans this cry of mysterious sorrow, _My God, my God, why hast Thou\nforsaken Me?_\"\n\n\"It is David's cry of anguish,\" said Abishai.\n\n\"Look farther on, my son, ponder the subject more deeply,\" cried\nHadassah, and she proceeded to read aloud part of the inspired Word.\n\"_The assembly of the wicked have inclosed Me: they pierced My hands\nand My feet.  I may tell all My bones: they look and stare upon Me.\nThey part My garments among them, and cast lots on My vesture_ (Ps.\nxxii. 16-18).  These things never happened to David; the Psalmist\nspeaks not here of himself.\"\n\n\"Of whom then could he be speaking,\" said Abishai, looking perplexed.\n\"Not surely of the Messiah, not of the seed of the woman who shall\nbruise the serpent's head\" (Gen. iii. 15).\n\n\"Wherefore not?\" asked Hadassah, \"seeing that He Himself must be\nbruised in the conflict?  If it be written, _My Servant shall deal\nprudently, He shall be exalted and extolled, and be very high_, the\nshadow lies close under the brightness, it is also written, _His visage\nwas so marred more than any man, and His form more than the sons of\nmen, and why? because so shall He sprinkle many nations_ (Isa. lii.\n13-15), it may be--with His own blood!\"\n\n\"Yours are strange thoughts,\" muttered the son of Nathan.\n\n\"They are not my thoughts,\" replied Hadassah.  \"Behold, farther on in\nthe roll, what was revealed to the prophet Isaiah?  Is the note of\ntriumph sounded here?  _He is despised and rejected of men; a Man of\nsorrows, and acquainted with grief: and we hid as it were our faces\nfrom Him; He was despised, and we esteemed Him not.  Surely He hath\nborne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem Him\nstricken, smitten of God, and afflicted.  But He was wounded for our\ntransgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of\nour peace was upon Him; and with His stripes we are healed.  All we\nlike sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way;\nand the Lord hath laid on Him the iniquity of us all.  He was cut off\nout of the land of the living: for the transgression of My people was\nHe stricken_ (Isa. liii. 3-6, 8).  Have we not here the Victim, the\nSubstitute, the Sacrifice bound on the altar, bleeding, wounded, dying,\nand that for sins not His own?\"\n\n\"It cannot be.  It is impossible--quite impossible--that when the\nMessiah comes He should be despised and rejected,\" exclaimed Abishai,\nto whom this interpretation of prophecy was as unwelcome as it was new.\n\"When He comes, all Israel shall triumph and rejoice, and welcome their\nKing, the Ruler of the world.\"\n\nHadassah silently unrolled her parchment until she came to the\nthirteenth chapter[1] of the prophet Zechariah.\n\n\"Listen to this, son of Nathan,\" said she.  \"_Awake, O sword, against\nMy Shepherd, and against the Man that is My Fellow, saith the Lord of\nhosts_\" (Zech. xiii. 7).\n\n\"Who is My Fellow?\" repeated Abishai, in amazement, for that portion of\nScripture had never been brought to his attention before.  \"Can you\nhave read the sentence correctly?  Were that not written in the Word of\nGod, methinks it were rank blasphemy even to think that the Lord of\nhosts could have an equal.\"\n\n\"There is mystery in that word which man cannot fathom,\" cried\nHadassah,  \"The Divine Essence is One: the foundation of our faith is\nthe most solemn declaration, _Hear, O Israel! the Lord our God_[2] _is\nOne Lord_ (Deut. vi. 4); and yet in that very declaration is conveyed\nthe idea of unity combined with distinction of persons.\"\n\n\"Hadassah, Hadassah, into what wilderness of heresy are you wandering?\"\nAbishai exclaimed.\n\nThe Hebrew lady appeared not to hear him, but went on, as if thinking\naloud:\n\n\"No man hath seen God at any time, He Himself hath declared--_No man\nshall see Me, and live_\" (Exod. xxxiii. 20).  \"But who, then, visibly\nappeared unto Abraham?  Who was it who wrestled with Jacob?  Who spake\nunto Gideon?  On whose glory was Isaiah permitted to gaze?  Who was\nsoon to walk in the fiery furnace?  Who was He, _like the Son of Man,\nwho came with the clouds of heaven, and came to the Ancient of Days?_\"\n(Dan. vii. 18.)\n\n\"At one moment you would view Messiah as a Victim; at the next, as a\nGod!\" cried the Hebrew.\n\n\"If God should deign to take the form of Man, to bear Man's penalty, to\nsuffer Man's death, might He not be _both_?\" asked Hadassah.\n\nSeeing that Abishai started at the question, she turned to the portion\nof the roll which contained the prophecy of Isaiah, and read aloud:--\n\n\"_Unto us a Child is born_.  Here is clearly an announcement of human\nbirth; yet is this Child revealed to us as _the mighty God, the\neverlasting Father, the Prince of Peace_\" (Isa. ix. 6).\n\n\"Such thoughts as these are too high, too difficult, for the human mind\nto grasp,\" exclaimed Abishai, pressing his brow.  \"The frail vessel\nmust burst that has such hot molten gold poured within it.  All that I\ncan answer to what you have said is this.  I believe not--and never\nwill believe--that when Messiah, the Hope of Israel, shall come, He\nwill be rejected by our nation.  Were it so, such a fearful curse would\nfall upon our race that the memory of the Egyptian bondage, the\nBabylonish captivity, the Syrian persecution, would be forgotten in the\ngreater horrors of what God's just vengeance would bring upon this\npeople.  We should become a by-word, a reproach, a hissing.  We should\nbe scattered far and wide amongst the nations, as chaff is scattered by\nthe winds, until--\"\n\nAbishai paused, and clenched his hand and set his teeth, as if language\nfailed him to describe the utter desolation and misery which such a\ncrime as the rejection of the Messiah must bring upon the descendants\nof Abraham.  As Abishai did not finish his sentence, Hadassah completed\nit for him.\n\n\"Until,\" she said, with a brightening countenance--\"until Judah repent\nof her sin, and turn to Him whom she once denied.  Hear, son of Nathan,\nbut one more prophecy from the Scriptures.  Thus saith the Lord:--_I\nwill pour upon the house of David, and upon the inhabitants of\nJerusalem, the spirit of grace and of supplications: and they shall\nlook upon ME whom they have pierced, and they shall mourn for Him, as\none mourneth for his only son, and shall be in bitterness for Him, as\none that is in bitterness for his first-born_ (Zech. xii. 10).  _And\nthe Lord shall be King over all the earth_\" (Zech. xiv. 9).\n\nAbishai left the dwelling of Hadassah with a perturbed spirit,\nunwilling to own to himself that views so widely differing from his own\ncould have any foundation in truth.  The idea of a rejected, suffering,\ndying Messiah was beyond measure repugnant to the soul of the Hebrew.\n\n\"See what comes of concentrating all the powers of the mind on abstruse\nstudy!\" Abishai muttered to himself as he descended the hill.\n\"Hadassah is going mad; her judgment is giving way under the strain.\"\n\n\n\n[1] Of course, the Hebrew roll was not divided into chapters; they are\nbut given for facility of reference.\n\n[2] \"God,\" in the original, is \"Elohim,\" a _plural_ word.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII.\n\nTRIALS OF THE HEART.\n\nFor the first time in the course of her life, Zarah dreaded a meeting\nwith Hadassah.  Though the season was now so far advanced that the heat\nof the sun was great, the maiden lingered on the shadeless housetop,\nleaning her brow against the parapet, listlessly gazing towards\nJerusalem, but with her mind scarcely taking in the objects upon which\nher eyes were fixed.  Was it a foreboding of coming sorrow, or a\nfeeling of self-reproach, that brooded over the maiden's soul?  Zarah\nwas afraid to analyze her own feelings: she only knew that her heart\nwas very heavy.\n\nNearly two hours thus passed.  The sun had now approached the horizon,\nand the heat was less oppressive.  Zarah heard the slow step of\nHadassah ascending the stair, and rose to meet her, but with a\nsensation of fear.  The remembrance of that look of sad displeasure,\nsuch as had never been turned upon her before, had haunted the mind of\nthe conscious girl.  Was Hadassah angry with her daughter?  Would she\ncome to probe a heart which had never from childhood kept a secret from\none so tenderly loved?  Zarah was afraid to raise her eyes to\nHadassah's when they met, lest she should encounter that stern look\nagain; but never had the aged lady's face worn an expression of greater\ntenderness than it did when, on the housetop, she rejoined the child of\nher love.\n\n\"Have you been here in the heat of the sun, my dove, letting the fierce\nrays beat on your unveiled face?\" said Hadassah, after printing a kiss\non the maiden's brow.  \"Nay, I must chide you, my Zarah.  Seat yourself\nwhere yon tall palm now throws its shadow, and I will sit beside you.\nWe will talk of the glorious tidings which Abishai brought to us\nto-day.\"\n\nIt was a great relief to Zarah to hear that such was to be the subject\nof the coming conversation.  She glanced timidly up into the face of\nHadassah; and, quite reassured by what she saw there, took her\nfavourite place at her grandmother's feet.\n\n\"Is it not evident,\" pursued Hadassah, \"that the arm of the Lord is\nstretched out to fight for Judah---that His blessing goes with Judas\nMaccabeus?  Do you not rejoice, Zarah, in the victory which has been\nwon by our Hebrew heroes?\"\n\n\"I do rejoice; I thank God for it,\" replied the maiden.  \"I hope that a\ntime is coming when we shall go forth, like the women of Israel in\nolden time, who went singing and dancing to meet Saul and David, after\nthe triumph over the Philistines.\"\n\n\"David, when he slew Goliath and won the hand of a king's daughter,\ndeserved not more of his country than does Maccabeus,\" observed\nHadassah.  \"Are you not proud of your kinsman, my child?\"\n\n\"All Judaea is proud of her hero,\" said Zarah.\n\n\"Happy the woman whom he shall choose as his bride!\" cried Hadassah.\n\nThe maiden gave no reply.\n\n\"Zarah, why should I longer conceal from you what has so long been in\nmy thoughts?\" said the aged lady, after a pause of some minutes'\nduration.  \"Why should you not know of the high honour awaiting my\ndaughter?  From your early childhood both Mattathias, our revered\nkinsman--on whose grave be peace!--and myself have looked forward to\nthe future espousals of my loved Zarah and Judas.\"\n\n\"Judas!  Oh, no, no!\" exclaimed Zarah, suddenly withdrawing her\ntrembling hand from that of her grandmother, in which it had been\nclasped.  \"He is wedded to his country; he will never think of taking a\nwife.\"  She spoke rapidly, and with some emotion.\n\n\"His toils and triumphs may, and I trust will, lead to future peace,\"\nsaid Hadassah.  \"Then may he enjoy the happiness which he has earned so\nwell.  Will you not give it to him, Zarah--you, whose very name\nsignifies 'brightness'?\"\n\n\"I honour Maccabeus as a hero; I could reverence him as my prince; I\nwould kneel and wash the dust from his feet, or cut off my long hair to\nstring his bow; but I cannot be his bride,\" exclaimed Zarah.  \"I am so\nweak, so unworthy!  It would be like mating the eagle with the sparrow\nthat sits on the housetops.  Maccabeus is the noblest of men.\"\n\n\"Blessed the wife who can so honour her lord!\" said Hadassah.\n\n\"I do honour Maccabeus from the depths of my soul; but--but I fear\nhim,\" faltered Zarah.\n\n\"Were you a Syrian you might say so,\" observed Hadassah, with a faint\napproach to a smile; \"but not as a daughter of Judah.  Terrible as he\nis to his country's foes, to armed oppressors, no maiden had ever cause\nto dread Maccabeus.  The sharp thorns of the cactus make it an\nimpenetrable fence which the strongest intruder cannot break through;\nyet bears it brilliant flowers and refreshing fruit.  The strong\nwar-horse tramples down the enemy in battle; but in peace the little\nchild unharmed may play with his mane.  The bravest are the most\ngentle.  Judas is no exception to this rule.  Pure-hearted and true, he\nis one to make a woman happy.\"\n\nZarah sighed, and drooped her head.\n\n\"Was it not a proud moment for Achsah, when Othniel, after the conquest\nof Kirjathsepher, claimed her hand as the victor's prize?\" asked\nHadassah.\n\n\"But Achsah was the daughter of a Caleb,\" said Zarah.  Then, raising\nher head, she suddenly inquired--\"Did my father also destine me to be\nthe bride of my kinsman?\"\n\nHadassah winced at the question, as if a painful wound had been touched.\n\n\"Oh, my child, have pity on me,\" she faintly murmured, \"and speak not\nof him!\"\n\nZarah had for long known that there was one subject which she dared\nnever approach.  Her grandmother had, as it were, one locked chamber in\nher heart, which no one might venture to open.  Whether Zarah's father\nwere dead or not, the maiden knew not.  She faintly remembered a tall,\nhandsome man, who had played with her tresses and danced her in his\narms when she was a child, in her early home at Bethsura; but since she\nhad left that home in company with her grandmother, she had never seen\nhim nor heard his name.  The slightest allusion to her father by Zarah\nhad caused such distress to Hadassah, that the child had soon learned\nto be silent, though not to forget.  Hadassah often spoke of Miriam,\nher only daughter, and of Zarah's own gentle mother--twin-roses, as she\nwould call them, both early gathered for heaven in the first year of\ntheir wedded lives--but of her son she never would speak.  A mystery\nhung round the fate of Abner--such was his name--which his daughter\nvainly longed to penetrate.  Her heart reproached her now for the\nunguarded question into which she had been surprised.\n\n\"Oh, forgive me, mother,\" said Zarah, kissing the hand of Hadassah,\nwhich was tremulous and cold; \"your word, your will, shall be enough\nfor me in all things, except--oh, ask me not to wed my kinsman.\"\n\n\"Is it, can it be because another has a nearer place in your heart?\"\nsaid Hadassah.  The fair countenance of Zarah became suddenly rosy as\nthe sunlit cloud, then pale as Lebanon snow, at the question.\n\n\"Oh, then, my fears are too true!\" exclaimed Hadassah, in a tone not of\nwrath but of anguish.  \"Must the sins of the father be visited upon the\ninnocent child!  A Gentile--a heathen--an idolater!  Would I had died\nere this day!\"\n\n\"Be not angry with me, mother,\" faltered Zarah, wetting Hadassah's hand\nwith her tears.\n\n\"I am not angry, my poor dove,\" cried the widow.  \"Woe is me that I\nhave been, as it were, constrained to expose you to this cruel snare.\nBut you will break through it,\" she added, with more animation, \"my\nbird will rise above earth with her silver wings unsullied and bright!\nVarious are the temptations which the soul's enemy employs to draw away\nGod's servants from their allegiance; some he would sway through their\nfears; others he would win by the love of the world, its wealth and its\npleasures; others he would chain by their hearts' strong affections.\nBut the Lord gives strength to his people, to resist and to conquer,\nwhether the temptation be from fear or from love.  You are the worthy\nkinsman of Solomona, who gave life itself for the faith.\"\n\n\"Perhaps the sacrifice of life is not the hardest to make,\" Zarah\ndreamily replied.\n\n\"Solomona gave her seven sons,\" said Hadassah.\n\n\"Oh, what a mercy-stroke to her was that which let her follow them!\"\nexclaimed Zarah.  \"Had she been left to survive all whom she loved,\nSolomona had been the most wretched woman on earth!\"\n\n\"No; not the most wretched,\" said Hadassah, with deep feeling, \"for\nthey all died in the faith.  Better, all, far better to lose seven by\ndeath, than one by--by treason against God!\"  And in an almost\ninaudible voice the aged lady added, closing her eyes, \"Must I know\nthat misery twice?\"\n\n\"No, mother, mine own dear mother, you shall never know that misery\nthrough me!\" exclaimed Zarah with animation.  \"I will pray, I will\nstrive, I will try to put away, even from my thoughts, all that would\ncome between me and the faith of a daughter of Abraham, only guide me,\nhelp me, tell your child what she should do,\" and the maiden\npassionately kissed again and again the hand of Hadassah, and then\npillowed her aching head on her parent's bosom.  Hadassah folded her\nthere in a long and tender embrace.\n\n\"I would send you to Bethsura, to my aged cousin, Rachel,\" said the\nwidow, \"only\"--\n\n\"Oh, send me not away; let me stay beside you; your health is failing;\nI should never know peace afar from you!\" sobbed Zarah, in a tone of\nentreaty.\n\n\"I dare not send my child to Idumea, with no safe escort, and the\nSyrians, men of Belial, holding the land,\" said Hadassah.  \"Better keep\nher here under my wing, in the quiet seclusion of my home.  But, oh, my\nchild, attend to the voice of your mother; you must avoid meeting the\nGentile stranger; you must be little in the lower apartments, Zarah,\nand never save when I am there also.  Your trial will not last long;\nthe Athenian's wounds are healing; after the Passover-feast, Abishai\nwill leave Jerusalem to join the patriot band.  When he is once safe\nbeyond reach of the enemy, I will no longer for one hour harbour\nLycidas under my roof; he has been here far too long already.  Your\npainful struggle will now last but a short time, my Zarah.\"\n\nZarah thought, though she did not say so, that the heart struggle would\nlast as long as her earthly existence.\n\n\"You will obey me, my daughter?\" asked the widow; \"you will shun the\ntoo attractive society of the stranger?\"\n\nThe maiden bowed her head in assent, and murmured, \"Pray for me,\nmother; I am so weak.\"\n\n\"My life shall be one prayer,\" said Hadassah.\n\n\"Mine--one sacrifice,\" thought the poor maiden.  \"Oh, may that\nsacrifice be accepted!\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII.\n\nSILENT CONFLICT.\n\nThe maiden kept her silent promise; faithfully she obeyed the hest of\nHadassah.  Seldom as possible did she enter the room which communicated\nwith the hiding-place of Lycidas, and never save in the company of her\naged relative.  Zarah's wheel was carried to her sleeping apartment;\nheat and discomfort were made no excuse for leaving the more secluded\nportions of the small and inconvenient dwelling.  Zarah, a voluntary\nprisoner, avoiding seeing him who appeared to her to be an embodiment\nof all that was beautiful in form, and brilliant in mind, one whose\nsociety resembled the light which glorifies every object on which it\nmay fall.\n\nAnd Zarah did not, as many maidens in her place might have done, punish\nHadassah for throwing her influence into the scale of duty, by showing\nher the extent of the sacrifice which she had required.  The young\ngirl, while her heart was bleeding, struggled to maintain a serene and\nplacid mien.  Hadassah never heard Zarah sigh, never surprised her in\ntears.  No duty was neglected, no work left undone; nay, Zarah spun\nmore busily than ever, for the support of the stranger was a drain on\nthe scanty resources of Hadassah, and to work for him and pray for him\nwas the sole indulgence which Zarah could allow herself without\nself-reproach.  She tried--how arduous was the effort!--even to turn\nher thoughts from the subject which was to her as the forbidden fruit\nwas to Eve.  The chasm which divided Abraham's daughter from the\nheathen was one over which, as Zarah knew, it would be sinful to throw\neven the rainbow bridge of imagination.  She must force her mind from\napproaching the dangerous brink.  How many of the Psalms of David,\nalways those most mournful in their tone, Zarah repeated to herself, to\nbring solace to her spirit by day, or sleep to her eyelids by night.\nWhile Judas Maccabeus was maintaining a gallant struggle against the\nenemies of his country, conquering, but through much stern endurance,\nZarah, with the same faith and obedience as animated the warrior, was\nkeeping up a more painful fight against the heathen in her own gentle\nheart.\n\nThere was one subject of thought, and that a distressing one, to which\nZarah's mind most readily reverted when she would turn it from the\nchannel into which it was ever naturally flowing.  This was the mystery\nconnected with the fate of Abner her father.  The few words which had\nescaped Hadassah in an unguarded moment, were as the dull red light\nwhich a torch might throw on the sides of some yawning pit, whose\ndepths are left in profound darkness.  Often had Zarah yearned to know\nmore of her father, how he had died, for she had once deemed him dead,\nwhere his dear remains had been laid,--all that concerned him was of\ndeep interest to his only child.  But any attempt to break through the\nreserve which sealed the lips of Hadassah had evidently occasioned such\nacute distress that Zarah had long since given up the hope of gaining\ninformation from her.  Anna had entered the service of Hadassah, since\nthe Hebrew lady had quitted Bethsura; the attendant knew nothing, and\ntherefore could tell nothing, of what had previously occurred in the\nfamily.  Solomona, when she had paid occasional visits to her\nkinswomen, had never given Zarah an opportunity of speaking on so\ndelicate a subject.  Once when Zarah had ventured to ask the question,\n\"Did you know my father?\" Solomona had appeared not to hear it, and had\ninstantly started some quite irrelevant topic of conversation.  Abishai\ndoubtless knew much about the brother of his wife, but Zarah shrank\nfrom questioning him; from his fierce impetuosity of character, he was\nnot one to draw out the confidence of a gentle and timid girl.  Zarah\nalmost felt as if her uncle disliked, and for some reason which she\nunderstood not, regarded her with mingled pity and contempt.  Thus the\ndaughter of Abner, cut off from all means of gaining reliable\ninformation, was thrown back on her own conjectures.  A vague doubt\nwhich had lately arisen in Zarah's mind, but which had always\nheretofore been repelled as treason to a parent's memory, was given\nform and substance by the faint exclamation which grief had wrung from\nHadassah, \"_Must I know that misery twice._\"  Many slight circumstances\nthen recurred to Zarah's memory to confirm her suspicions, especially\nthe anguish which Hadassah had betrayed at the burial of Solomona, when\na strange pang of envy had seemed to intensify that of bereavement.\nZarah was as one bending lower and lower over that pit of which she\nlonged, yet dreaded, to sound the depths, straining her eyes to\npenetrate the darkness, while trembling to think what horrors that\ndarkness might hide.\n\n\"Is it possible that my father may yet be breathing on earth,\nliving--the life of an apostate!\"  The idea haunted Zarah like a\nspectre.  There was only one hope which had power to lay it: \"If\nliving, he may be spared for repentance.  God is merciful; He judgeth\nnot severely; He delighteth in receiving His wanderers back.  Did not\nNathan say to penitent David, 'Thou shalt not surely die;' was not even\nthe guilty Manasseh restored to his throne?  Oh, the son of the pious\nHadassah, a woman of such faith and prayer, can never be lost!\"  After\nsuch meditations, the burdened heart of Zarah would find relief in\nfervent supplications for her father.  Her filial affection came to the\naid of her religious obedience.  \"God will not hear prayers,\" thought\nZarah, \"from one in whose heart an idol is enshrined.  For my father's\nsake, as well as my own, let me strive to give unreserved obedience to\nmy Lord.\"\n\nSo, endeavouring to overcome one grief by the help of another, and to\ncast a veil over both, Zarah passed weary day after day, letting no\nmurmur mar her offering of meek submission.  She would even speak\ncheerfully to Hadassah, and sing to her songs of Zion, which the aged\nlady delighted to hear.  There was one song especially dear, in which\nHadassah had herself woven prophetic promises into verse.  The rhymes\nmight be rude, and altogether unworthy of their theme; but when softly\nwarbled by Zarah's melodious voice, they appeared to the aged listener\nlike the very breathing of hope.\n\n\nLAY OF ZION.\n\n  \"Jerusalem, thou sittest in the dust,\n    God's heavy judgment on thy children lies;\n  But He in whom their fathers put their trust\n    Shall bid thee yet, as from the grave, arise.[1]\n        Oh, Zion, discrowned Queen!\n          A throne awaits for thee;[2]\n        For glorious thou hast been,\n          All glorious shalt thou be.[3]\n\n  \"Behold the white-winged ships from Tarshish strand,[4]\n    Shall bear thy sons and daughters o'er the wave;\n  All nations call thee blessed, delightsome land,[5]\n    Which God of old to faithful Abraham gave.[6]\n        Oh, Zion, &c.\n\n  \"Ephraim with Judah God shall then restore,[7]\n    The Hand that severed, now uniteth them;\n  Ephraim shall envy, Judah, vex no more,[8]\n    All shall rejoice in thee, Jerusalem.\n        Oh, Zion, &c.\n\n  \"Assyria, Egypt, shall with Israel join,[9]\n    (The land where Daniel trod the lion's den,\n  The land where Pharaohs bowed at Apis' shrine),\n    Oppressors once--but more than sisters then.\n        Oh, Zion, &c.\n\n  \"God shall a wall of fire round thee abide,[10]\n    To guard thee as the apple of the eye;[11]\n  Rejoicing as the bridegroom o'er the bride.[12]\n    For He hath pardoned thine iniquity.[13]\n        Oh, Zion, &c.\n\n  \"The mountains may depart, the hills may shake,[14]\n    But nought thy Saviour's love from thee shall sever,\n  The mother may her sucking child forsake,\n    God thy Redeemer shall forsake thee never.[15]\n        Oh, Zion, discrowned Queen!\n          A throne still waits for thee;\n        For glorious thou hast been,\n          All glorious shalt thou be.\"\n\n\n\n[1] Isa. lx. 1.\n\n[2] Isa. xxii. 23.\n\n[3] Isa. lx. 13, 14.\n\n[4] Isa. lx. 9.\n\n[5] Mal. iii. 12\n\n[6] Gen. xiii. 15.\n\n[7] Ezek. xxxvii. 16, 17.\n\n[8] Isa. xi. 13.\n\n[9] Isa. xix. 24.\n\n[10] Zech. ii. 5.\n\n[11] Zech. ii. 8.\n\n[12] Isa. lxii. 5.\n\n[13] Isa. xliv. 22.\n\n[14] Isa. liv. 10.\n\n[15] Isa. xlix. 15.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV.\n\nA CRISIS.\n\nLycidas, in the meantime, was chafing in wild impatience under the\ntrial of Zarah's almost perpetual absence.  He could no longer watch\nher, no longer listen to her, except when his straining ear caught the\nfaint sound of her music floating down from an upper apartment.  Why\nwas she away? why should she shun him? she whose presence alone had\nrendered not only tolerable but delightful the kind of mild captivity\nin which he was retained, while the state of his wounds rendered the\nGreek unable, without assistance, to leave the dwelling of Hadassah.\nLycidas had none of the scruples of Zarah regarding union with one of a\ndifferent race and religion.  The Greek had resolved on winning the\nfair Hebrew maid as his bride; he was conscious of possessing the gift\nof attractions such as few young hearts could resist, and asked fortune\nonly for an opportunity of exerting all his powers to the utmost to\nsecure the most precious prize for which mortal had ever contended.\n\nLycidas beguiled many tedious hours by the composition of a poem, of\nsingular beauty, in honour of Zarah.  Most melodious was the flow of\nthe verse, most delicate the fragrance of the incense of praise.  The\nrealms of nature, the kingdom of art, were ransacked for images of\nbeauty.  But Lycidas felt disgusted with his own work before he had\ncompleted it.  He seemed to himself like one decorating with gems and\nhanging rich garments on an exquisite statue, in the attempt to do it\nhonour only marring the perfection of its symmetry, and the grace of\nits marble drapery.  A few words which the Greek had heard Hadassah\nread from her sacred parchment, appeared to him to include more than\nall his most laboured descriptions could convoy.  Lycidas had thought\nof Zarah when he had listened to the expression, _the beauty of\nholiness_.\n\n\"I will not stay a prisoner here, if I am to be shut out in this\nstifling little den not only from the world, but from her who is more\nthan the world to me,\" thought the Greek.  After months of suffering\nand weakness, strength, though but slowly, was returning to the frame\nof Lycidas; and when no one was near to watch him, when the door to the\nwest was closed, and the curtain to the east was drawn, he would\noccasionally try how far that strength would enable him to go.  He\nwould raise himself on his feet, though not without a pang from his\nwounded side.  Then the Greek would take a few steps, from one end of\nhis prison to the other, leaning for support against the wall.  This\nwas something for a beginning; youth and love would soon enable him to\ndo more.  But Lycidas carefully concealed from Hadassah and Anna that\nhe could do as much.  They never saw him but reclining on the floor.\nHe feared that measures might be taken to clip the wings of the bird if\nit were once guessed how nearly those wings were fledged.\n\nThe day before the celebration of the great feast of the Passover,\nHadassah was far from well.  Whether her illness arose from the state\nof the weather, for the month of Nisan was this year more than usually\nhot, or the effect of long fastings and prayer upon a frame enfeebled\nby age, or whether from secret grief preying on her health, Zarah knew\nnot,--perhaps from all these causes combined.  The maiden grew uneasy\nabout her grandmother, and redoubled her tender ministrations to her\ncomfort.\n\nOn the day mentioned, Anna had gone into Jerusalem to dispose of flax\nspun by the Hebrew ladies, and procure a few necessary articles of\nfood.  Hadassah never suffered her beautiful girl to enter to walls of\nthe city, nor, indeed, ever to quit the precincts of her home, save\nwhen on Sabbath-days and feast-days she went, closely veiled, to the\ndwelling of the elder Salathiel, about half a mile distant from that of\nHadassah, to join in social worship.  Hadassah with jealous care\nshrouded her white dove from the gaze of Syrian eyes.\n\nThe aged lady had passed a very restless night.  With thrilling\ninterest Zarah had heard her moaning in her sleep, \"Abner! my son! my\npoor lost son!\"  The sealed lips were opened, when the mind had no\nlonger power to control their utterance.  Hadassah awoke in the morning\nfeverish and ill.  She made a vain attempt to rise and pursue her usual\navocations.  Zarah entreated her to lie still.  For hours the widow lay\nstretched on a mat with her eyes half closed, while Zarah watched\nbeside her, fanning her feverish brow.\n\n\"Let me prepare for you a cooling drink, dear mother,\" said the maiden\nat last, rising and going to the water-jar, which stood in a corner of\nthe apartment.  \"Alas! it is empty.  Anna forgot to replenish it from\nthe spring ere she set out for the city.  I will go and fill it myself.\"\n\nZarah lifted up the jar, and poising it on her head, lightly descended\nthe rough steps of the outer stair, and proceeded to the spring at the\nback of the house.  The spring was surrounded by oleanders, which at\nthis time of the year in Palestine are robed in their richest bloom.\nBut the season had been singularly hot and dry, the latter rains had\nnot yet fallen, and the spring was beginning to fail.  Zarah placed her\njar beneath the opening from which, pure and bright, the water\ntrickled, but the supply was so scanty that she could almost count the\ndrops as they fell.  It would take a considerable time for the jar to\nbe filled by these drops.\n\n\"Ah! methinks my earthly joys are even as this failing spring!\" thought\nthe maiden, sadly, as she watched the slow drip of the water.  \"All\nwill be dried up soon.  My loved grandmother's strength is sinking; she\nwill be unable to-morrow to keep the holy feast in Salathiel's house,\nthough her heart will be with the worshippers there.  How different,\noh! how different is this Passover from that which we celebrated last\nyear!  Then, indeed, there was an idol in the Temple of the Lord, and\nholy sacrifice could not be offered in the appointed place, but the\nfierce storm of persecution had not arisen in all its terrors.  Then\naround the table of Salathiel how many gathered whom I never again\nshall behold upon earth!  Solomona, my kinswoman, and her seven sons\nall met in that solemn assembly; the bright-eyed Asahel, the fearless\nMahali, young Joseph, who was my merry playmate when ten years ago we\ncame from Bethsura hither!  I remember that when Hadassah looked on\nthat cluster of brothers, she said that they were like the\nPleiades--they are more like those star-gems now, for they shine not on\nearth but in heaven!  And Solomona looked proudly on her boys--her\nnoble sons, and said that not one of them had ever raised a blush on\nthe cheek of their mother; and then, methinks, she regretted having\nuttered the boast, and I fancied that I heard a stifled sigh from\nHadassah.  Was it that the spirit of prophecy came upon her then, that\nshe foresaw the terrible future, or was it--alas! alas! I dare not\nthink wherefore she sighed!  And old Mattathias, he who now sleeps in\nthe sepulchre of his fathers, he and his sons kept that Passover feast\nwith Salathiel, having come up to Jerusalem to worship, according to\nthe law of Moses.  How venerable looked the old man with his long snowy\nbeard! it seemed to me that so Abraham must have looked, when his\nearthly pilgrimage was well-nigh ended.  Mattathias laid his hand on my\nhead and blessed me, and called me daughter.  Ah! can it be that he\nthought of me then as his daughter indeed!  The princely Judas stood\nnear, and when I raised my head I met the gaze of his eyes, and I\nthought--no, I never then fully grasped the meaning expressed in that\ngaze, it was to me as the tender glance of a brother.  Mattathias is\ngone; Solomona and her children are all gone; Judas, with his gallant\nband, is like a lion at bay with the hunters closing in an\never-narrowing circle around him.  Apollonius has been vanquished,\nSeron defeated by our hero; but now Nicanor and Giorgias, with the\nforces of Ptolemy, upwards of forty thousand men, are combining to\ncrush him by their overwhelming numbers!  What can the devotion of our\npatriots avail but to swell the band of martyrs who have already laid\ndown their lives in defence of our faith and our laws!  Alas! theirs\nwill be a stern keeping of the holy feast; other blood will flow\nbesides that of the Paschal lamb!  And a sad keeping of the feast will\nbe mine; I shall see scarce a familiar face, that of no relative save\nAbishai; and I owe him but little affection.  And oh! worst of all, I\nfear me that I have an unholy leaven in my heart, which I in vain seek\nto put entirely away.  I am secretly cherishing the forbidden thing,\nthough not wilfully, not wilfully, as He knows to whom I constantly\npray for strength to give up all that is displeasing in His sight!\"\n\nThe jar was now full; Zarah turned to raise it as the last thought\npassed through her mind, and started as she did so!  Lycidas, with all\nhis soul beaming in his eyes, was close beside her!  The maiden uttered\na faint exclamation, and endeavoured to pass him, and return to the\nhouse.\n\n\"Stay, Zarah, idol of my soul!\" exclaimed the Athenian, seizing her\nhand; \"you must not fly me, you shall listen to me once--only once!\"\nand with a passionate gush of eloquence the young Greek laid his hopes,\nhis fortunes, his heart at her feet.\n\nZarah turned deadly pale; her frame trembled.  \"Oh, Lycidas, have mercy\nupon me!\" she gasped.  \"It is sin in me even to listen; it were cruelty\nto suffer you to hope.  Our law forbids a daughter of Abraham to wed a\nGentile; to return your love would be rebellion against my God,\napostasy from the faith of my fathers; better to suffer--better to\ndie!\"--and with an effort releasing her icy-cold hand from the clasp of\nthe man whom she loved, Zarah sprang hurriedly past him, and with the\nspeed of a frightened gazelle fled up the staircase, and back into the\nchamber in which she had left Hadassah.\n\nLycidas stood bewildered by the maiden's sudden retreat.  He felt as if\nthe gate of a paradise had been suddenly closed against him.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV.\n\nTHE TWO CAMPS.\n\nWhile the scenes lately described had been occurring in the\nneighbourhood of Jerusalem, Maccabeus, in the mountains, had been\npreparing for the deadliest shock of war.  Like wave upon wave, each\nswelling higher than the one before it, successive armies hurled their\nstrength against the devoted band that held aloft the banner of the\ntruth, as a beacon-light gleaming on high amidst the fiercest fury of\nthe tempest.  The mighty Nicanor, son of Patroclus, a man honoured with\nthe king's peculiar favour, had gathered together a powerful force \"to\nroot out the whole generation of the Jews,\" and with him was joined in\ncommand Georgias, a general of great experience in war.\n\nA large camp was formed by the Syrians at Emmaus, about a Sabbath-day's\njourney from Jerusalem.  The hills were darkened with their goats'-hair\ntents, the roads thronged with soldiers, and with a multitude of\nmerchants who brought much silver and gold to purchase Hebrew captives\nas slaves for their markets.  For so confident of victory was Nicanor,\nthat he had beforehand proclaimed a sale of the prisoners whom he would\nreserve from slaughter; nay, had fixed the very price which he would\ndemand for his vanquished foes!  Ninety of the Hebrew warriors should\nbe sold for a talent, so ran Nicanor's proclamation.\n\n\"These bold outlaws,\" said the haughty Syrian, \"shall spend their\nsuperfluous strength, as did their Samson of old, in grinding corn for\ntheir victors, or in tilling the fields which they once called their\nown, with the taskmaster's lash to quicken their labours.  Ha! ha! it\nwere good subject for mirth to see the lordly Maccabeus himself, with\nblinded eyes, turning the wheel at the well, and bending his proud back\nto serve as my footstool when I mount my Arab steed!  This were sweeter\nvengeance, a richer triumph, than to hew him to pieces with the sword\nwhich he took from the dead Apollonius.  Let the Asmonean fall into my\nhands, and he shall taste what it is to endure a living death!\"\n\nMaccabeus, on his part, had led his forces to Mizpeh, where they had\nencamped.  Here a day of solemn humiliation was appointed by the\nAsmonean chief; he and his warriors fasted, put on sackcloth, and\nunited in prayer to the God of Hosts.\n\nThe leader then more perfectly organized his little army, dividing it\ninto bands, and appointing captains over the divisions.  While Divine\naid was implored, human means were not neglected.\n\nEarly in the morning of the succeeding day, Maccabeus and Simon, his\nelder brother, held grave consultation together.  The scene around them\nwas historic; the very heap of stones upon which the chiefs were seated\nmarked the spot where the last leave of Laban had been taken by Jacob\ntheir forefather, when returning to his aged parent.\n\nBut few months have elapsed since Judas stood, as the reader first saw\nhim, by the grave of the martyrs, but these eventful months have\nwrought a marked change upon the Asmonean leader.  Fatigue, hardship,\nthe burden of care, the weight of responsibility, added to the sorrow\nof bereavement, have left their stamps on his expressive features.\nMaccabeus looks a worn and a weary man; but there is increased majesty\nin his demeanour, that dignity which has nothing to do with pride; for\npride has its origin in self-consciousness, true dignity in\nforgetfulness of self.\n\n\"This will be our sharpest conflict; the enemy is strong,\" observed\nSimon, glancing in the direction of the Syrian hosts, which lay between\nthem and Jerusalem.\n\n\"With the God of Heaven it is all one to deliver with a great multitude\nor with a few,\" said Maccabeus.\n\n\"What is the number of our forces?\" asked Simon.\n\n\"Six thousand, as given by yesterday's returns,\" was the reply; \"but\nto-day I will make proclamation that they who are planting vineyards or\nbuilding houses, or who have lately married wives, have full leave to\nretire if they will it, and then--ha!  Eleazar returned already!\" cried\nthe leader, interrupting himself, as a young Hebrew, dressed as a\nSyrian merchant, with rapid step ascended the little eminence on which\nthe Asmonean brothers were seated.\n\n\"I have been in the midst of them!\" exclaimed Eleazar; \"ay, I have\nstood in their tents, heard their songs, listened to their proud\nboastings, been present when the sons of Mammon bartered for the limbs\nand lives of the free-born sons of Abraham!  They may have our bodies\nas corpses,\" added the young Asmonean, with a proud smile, \"but never\nas slaves; and even as corpses, they shall purchase us dearly.\"\n\n\"Know you the numbers of the Syrians?\" inquired Simon, whose quiet,\nsedate manner formed a strong contrast to that of the fiery young\nEleazar.\n\n\"Nicanor has forty thousand footmen and seven thousand horse,\" was the\nreply; \"to say nothing of those who hang round his camp, as vultures\nwho scent the carnage from afar.\"\n\n\"More than seven to one,\" observed Simon, slightly shaking his head.\n\n\"Hebrews have encountered worse odds than that,\" cried the young man.\n\n\"Ay, when all were stanch,\" his elder brother rejoined.\n\n\"Do you then doubt our men!\" exclaimed Eleazar.\n\n\"Many of them will be faithful unto death; but I know that in some\nquarters there are misgivings--I may call them fears,\" was the grave\nreply of Simon.  \"Not all our troops are tried warriors; some in the\ncamp have spoken of submission.\"\n\n\"Submission!\" cried Eleazar, clenching his hand; \"I would lash the\nslaves up to the conflict as I would lash dogs that hung back in the\nchase.\"\n\n\"On the contrary,\" said Maccabeus, who had hitherto listened to the\nconversation in silence, \"I shall proclaim that whoso is fearful, has\nmy free permission to depart from us in peace.\"\n\n\"Were that well?\" asked Simon, doubtfully, \"we are already so greatly\noutnumbered by the foe.\"\n\n\"It is according to the law,\" replied Judas, calmly; \"it is what Gideon\ndid before encountering Midian.  We can have no man with us who is\nhalf-hearted; no one who will count his life dear in the struggle which\nis before us.\"\n\n\"If we are to fall in the struggle,\" observed Simon, \"half our number\nwill indeed suffice for the sacrifice.\"  He spoke without fear, but in\nthe tone of one who felt the full extent of the threatening danger.\n\n\"See you yon stone, my brother?\" asked Maccabeus, pointing to a pillar\non the way to Shen, which was clearly visible against the background of\nthe deep blue sky.  \"Yonder is Ebenezer, _the stone of help_, which\nSamuel set up in remembrance of victory over the Philistines, when God\nthundered from heaven, and discomfited the foes of Israel.\"\n\n\"Ay, I see it,\" replied Simon; \"and I see the power and faithfulness of\nthe Lord of Hosts written on that stone.  We are in His hand, not in\nthat of Nicanor.\"\n\n\"Let God arise, and let His enemies be scattered!\" exclaimed Eleazar.\n\n\"My brother, give order that the trumpets be sounded,\" said Maccabeus,\n\"and let our proclamation be known through the camp--that all who fear\nmay retire at once, nor remain to shame us by turning their backs in\nthe day of battle.\"\n\nThe commands of the leader were at once obeyed; the proclamation was\nissued, and its alarming effects were speedily seen.  The small force\nof Maccabeus began to melt like a snow-wreath under the beams of the\nsun.  One man remembered the tears of his newly-wedded bride, another\nthe helpless state of a widowed mother; the hearts of not a few were\nset on their flocks and herds, while many of their comrades found in\nthe state of crops needing the sickle, an excuse to cover the fear\nwhich they would have blushed to own as their motive for deserting the\ncause of their country.  Long before the evening had closed in, the\nforces under Maccabeus had been reduced to one-half their number.\n\n\"They have judged themselves unworthy to share the glory that awaits\ntheir brave brethren,\" cried the indignant Eleazar, as, leaning on his\nunstrung bow, he watched a long line of fugitives wending their way\ntowards the west.\n\nUndismayed, though perhaps somewhat discouraged by the defection of\nhalf his troops, Maccabeus made before sunset a brief address to those\nwho remained.  \"Arm yourselves,\" he said, \"and be valiant men; and see\nthat ye be in readiness before the morning, that ye may fight with\nthese nations that are assembled together to destroy us and our\nsanctuary.  For it is better for us to die in battle than to behold the\ncalamity of our people and our sanctuary.  Nevertheless, as the will of\nGod is in heaven, so let Him do.\"\n\nSo, with stern resolution to conquer or die, the Hebrews retired to\ntheir appointed places in the small camp till morning light should\narouse them to the desperate conflict.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI.\n\nBATTLE Of EMMAUS.\n\nBut the struggle was not to be deferred the morning.\n\nNight had just spread her veil of darkness over earth, and Simon,\nprudently reserving his strength for the expected fatigues of the\ncoming day, had wrapped himself in his mantle, and stretched himself on\nthe ground to snatch some hours of repose, when he was roused by the\ntouch of a hand on his shoulder.  Opening his eyes, Simon saw, by the\nred light of a torch, which the armour-bearer of Judas was holding\naloft, that Maccabeus was before him.\n\n\"Awake, arise, my brother; this is no time for sleep,\" said the leader.\nSimon was on his feet in a moment, an attentive listener, as Maccabeus\ncontinued: \"A scout has just brought in tidings from the Syrian camp\nthat Nicanor has detached five thousand of his foot-soldiers and a\nthousand chosen horsemen, under the command of Giorgias, to attack us\nthis night, and take us by surprise.\"\n\n\"They will find us prepared,\" said Simon, as he girded on his sword.\n\n\"Nay; they will find their prey flown,\" replied Maccabeus, his features\nrelaxing into a stern smile; \"we will fall on the Syrian camp in their\nabsence, teach the enemy his own lesson, and transfer the surprise to\nour foes.\"\n\n\"Well thought of!\" exclaimed Simon; \"darkness also will serve to hide\nthe weakness of our force.\"\n\n\"Our brethren are now marshalling our warriors,\" said Judas; \"all,\nunder God, depends upon silence, promptitude, decision.  We fight for\nour lives and our laws.\"\n\nThe leader turned to depart, but as he did so accidentally dropped\nsomething on the ground.  He stooped to raise and twist it rapidly\nround his left arm, under the sleeve.  The incident was so very\ntrifling that it scarcely drew the notice of Simon, though the thought\ndid flit across his mind that it was strange that his brother, on the\neve of battle, could pause to pick up anything so utterly valueless as\na slight skein of unbleached flax.  It was valueless indeed, save from\nthe associations which, in the mind of him who wore it, were entwined\nwith every thread.  That flax had been once used to tie together some\nflowers long since dead; the flowers had been dropped into a grave of\nmartyrs; the light skein had fallen on the upturned sod unnoticed save\nby the eyes of one.  Perhaps it was from remembrance of the dead, or\nperhaps it was because hopes regarding the living (hopes brighter and\nsweeter than the flowers had been) seemed now bound up in that flaxen\nstrand, that Maccabeus fastened that skein round his arm as a precious\nthing, when he would not have stooped to pick up a chaplet of pearls.\n\nBy the exertions of the five Asmonean brethren, the little Hebrew army\nwas rapidly put under arms, and prepared for the night attack.  The\nwhole force was united as one forlorn hope.  As moves the dark cloud in\nthe sky, so darkly and silently moved on the band of heroes, and, like\nthat cloud, they bore the thunderbolt with them.\n\nMost of the Syrians on that eventful night were sunk in sleep, but not\nall; in their camp some kept up their revels till late.  All the\nluxuries which fancy could devise or wealth could purchase were\ngathered together at Emmaus to hide the grim front of war, so that the\ncamp by daylight presented the motley appearance of a bazaar with the\ngay magnificence of a court.  There sherbet sparkled in vases of\nsilver, and the red wine was poured into golden cups, chased and\nembossed, in tents stretched out with silken cords.  Garments bright\nwith all the varied tints of the rainbow, rich productions of Oriental\nlooms, robes from Tyre, shawls from Cashmere, blended with instruments\nof warfare, swords, spears, and bucklers, the battle-axe and the\nhelmet.  The sentry, pacing his rounds, paused to listen to wild bursts\nof merriment, the loud oath and light song from some gay pavilion,\nwhere young Syrian nobles were exchanging jests, and indulging in deep\ncarousals.  Yonder, in the glaring torch-light, sat a group of\nofficers, engaged in some game of chance, and their stakes were the\ncaptives whom they were to drag at their chariot-wheels on the morrow.\nEach throw of the dice decided the fate of a Hebrew; at least, so\ndeemed the merry gamesters.\n\nBut the destined slaves were coming to the market sooner than their\nexpectant masters dreamed or desired, and the price for each Hebrew\nwould be exacted, not in gold, but in blood.  Suddenly the gamesters at\ntheir play, the revellers at the board, the slumberers on their\ncouches, were startled by the blare of trumpets and a ringing war-cry,\n\"The sword of the Lord and Maccabeus!\"  The full goblet was dashed from\nthe lip, the dice from the hand; there were wild shouts and cries, and\nrushing to and fro, soldiers snatching up weapons, merchants flying\nhither and thither for safety, stumbling over tent-ropes in the\ndarkness.  There were confused noises of terror, trampling of feet,\nsnorting of horses, calls to arms, clashing of weapons, with all the\nhorrors of sudden panic spreading like an epidemic through the mighty\nhost of Syria.  The few remained to oppose the unseen assailants, the\nmany took to flight; the ground was soon strewn with treasure, dropped\nby terrified fugitives, and weapons thrown down by warriors who had not\nthe courage to use them.  Tents were speedily blazing, and horses,\nterrified by the sudden glare and maddened by the scorching heat,\nprancing, plunging, rushing wildly through the camp, added to the\nfearful confusion.  Maccabeus, with the sword of Apollonius in his\nhand, pressed on to victory over heaps of prostrate foes.  Terror was\nsent as a herald before him, and success followed wherever he trode.\nIt seemed as if the Lord of Hosts were fighting for Israel, as in the\nold days of Gideon.\n\nHot was the pursuit after the flying Syrians; Maccabeus and his\nwarriors followed hard on their track to Gazora, Azotus, and Jamnia,\nand that southern part of Judaea lying between the Red Sea and Sodom,\nto which, from its having been colonized by Edomites, had been given\nthe name of Idumea.  For many a mile the track of the fugitives was\nmarked by their dead.\n\nBut as the morning dawned after that terrible though glorious night,\nthe trumpets of Maccabeus sounded to call his troops together.  The\nleader had not forgotten--though some of his eager followers might have\ndone so--that Giorgias, with an army of chosen warriors, doubling their\nown in number, and comparatively fresh, was yet to be encountered.\nWith stern displeasure Maccabeus saw his own men, grim with blood and\ndust, loading themselves with the rich plunder which lay on the road;\nlike fruit under orchard trees after a wild tornado.\n\n\"Be not greedy of the spoils,\" cried the leader, \"inasmuch as there is\na battle before us; but stand ye now against our enemies, and overcome\nthem, and after this ye may boldly take the spoils.\"\n\nIt is a more difficult task to call hounds off the prey that they have\nrun down, than to let them slip from the leashes when the quarry first\nis in sight.  It needed such moral influence over his men as was\npossessed by Maccabeus to enforce instant obedience when wealth was at\ntheir feet, and needed but the gathering up.\n\nIt was speedily seen, however, that the warning of the Asmonean chief\nhad not been unnecessary.  But a few minutes elapsed after the\nutterance of that warning, when the vanguard of the forces of Giorgias\nappeared on the crest of a hill at some distance, the live-long night\nhaving been spent by them in a vain attempt to discover the camp of the\nHebrews.  After a long, tedious march, Giorgias found himself on a\ncommanding height, from whence at dawn he had an extensive view of the\nsurrounding country.\n\n\"The slaves have fled--they have made their escape to the mountains,\"\nexclaimed Giorgias, as he dismounted from his weary war-horse, when the\nfirst bar of golden light appeared in the orient sky.\n\n\"Then they have left marks of their handiwork behind them,\" said a\nhorseman, pointing in the direction in which lay what had been the camp\nof Nicanor, now suddenly visible to the Syrians from the summit of the\nhill.  \"See you yon smoke arising from smouldering heaps?  There has\nbeen a battle at Emmaus.  The lion has broken through the toils.\nMaccabeus has not been sleeping through the night.\"\n\n\"Nay, my Lord Pollux; it is impossible.  The Hebrews would never dare\nto attack a force so greatly outnumbering their own,\" exclaimed\nGiorgias, unwilling to believe the evidence of his own senses.  But as\nthe light more clearly revealed the tokens of flight and disaster in\nthe far distance, where the smoke of ruin was rising into the calm\nmorning air, conviction of the terrible truth forced itself on the\ngeneral's mind, and, with mingled astonishment and dismay, he\nexclaimed, \"Where are the hosts of Nicanor?\"\n\n\"Yonder are those who can give an account of them,\" said Pollux,\nturning to the south, where in a valley the Hebrews might be seen\nmarshalled around their loader.  \"There, I ween, is the insolent outlaw\nwho has been making a shambles of our camp.  See you the glitter of the\nspears?  Maccabeus is setting his men in battle array.  There is but a\nhandful of them.  Shall we charge down upon them, and sweep them from\nthe face of the earth?\"\n\nGiorgias glanced again northward at Emmaus and the smoking ruins of the\nSyrian camp; then southward, where the little compact force in the\nvalley was clustering round the standard of Maccabeus.  Though the\ntroops under the command of Giorgias doubled the Hebrews in number, he\ndared not try the issue of battle with those who had so lately\ndiscomfited Nicanor's formidable hosts.  Had the Syrian leader been\nanimated by such a fearless spirit as characterized his opponent, in\nall human probability the victory of the night might have been, to\nJudas and his gallant little band, succeeded by the defeat of the\nmorning.  But Giorgias showed an unusual amount of caution on the\npresent occasion; and Pollux, though he assumed a tone of defiance, was\nsecretly by no means desirous to measure swords with Maccabeus.\n\nThe Hebrews were weary with conquering and pursuing.  Their spirit was\nunbroken, but their strength was exhausted.  It was with some anxiety\nthat the eagle eye of Judas watched the movements of the enemy on the\nheights, momentarily expecting an attack which he knew that his band of\nheroes was so little able to sustain.\n\n\"They will be down upon us soon,\" said Simon, as he leaned wearily on\nhis spear.\n\n\"Nay; behold, they are vanishing over the crest of the mountain!\"\ntriumphantly exclaimed Eleazar.  \"The cowards! only brave over the\nwine-bowl!  Not a stain on their swords! not a dint on their shields!\nThey are fleeing when no man pursues!  Oh, that we had but strength to\nfollow, and chase the dastards even up to the walls of Jerusalem!\"\n\n\"God hath put fear into their hearts.  To Him be the glory!\" said\nMaccabeus, as he sheathed his heavy sword.\n\nAnd after this--to transcribe the words of the ancient Hebrew\nhistorian, describing the triumphs of his countrymen--\"they went home,\nand sung a song of thanksgiving, and praised the Lord in heaven,\nbecause He is good, because His mercy endureth for ever.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII.\n\nDEPARTED.\n\nWhen Zarah, trembling and pale, after her interview with Lycidas, fled\nto the apartment of Hadassah, she left her water-jar behind her at the\nspring.  The sight of her grandmother, stretched on her low couch, with\nher eyes closed, and her lips parched and dry, recalled to the\nremembrance of the poor young maiden the errand for which she had\nquitted her side.\n\n\"The water! the water!\" exclaimed Zarah, striking her brow.  \"She must\nhave it.  But oh! I dare not--I dare not go back; for nothing on earth\ncould I go through that terrible struggle again!\"\n\nAs Zarah stood on the threshold, in a state of painful indecision, to\nher great relief she heard the voice of Anna below, and called to her\nto bring up the jar of water which she would find at the fountain.\nAnna quickly obeyed, and came up the stairs laden, not only with the\ncooling fluid, but with ripe fruit and vegetables, which she had\nbrought from Jerusalem--the white mulberry and the nebeb, with early\nfigs, cucumbers, and a melon.\n\nVery grateful was the supply to Hadassah; but more refreshing by far\nthan the draught of cold water were the tidings which Anna had brought\nfrom the city.  The Jewess was full of eagerness to a impart her\nglorious news.\n\n\"I saw them myself--Giorgias and his horsemen--jaded, crestfallen, as\nthey rode through the streets,\" cried Anna.  \"I marvel that they dared\nshow their faces: they had not so much as crossed weapons with our\nconquering heroes!\"\n\n\"Or they had not lived to tell the tale,\" exclaimed Hadassah, to whom\nthe news of the victory at Emmaus seemed to give new energy and life.\n\n\"We dared not clap our hands and shout,\" continued the Jewish servant;\n\"but there is not a Hebrew child that is not wild with joy.  We blessed\nthe name of Maccabeus, though we could only breathe it in whispers.\"\n\n\"But a day is coming when the welkin shall ring with that name, and the\nwalls of Jerusalem echo back the sound,\" cried Hadassah.  \"Oh, my\nchild!\" she continued, glancing joyfully at Zarah, \"there will be a\nthankful celebration of the Passover to-morrow.  The Lord is giving\ndeliverance to His chosen, even as He once did from the power of the\nhaughty Pharaoh.\"\n\n\"It must be a very quiet keeping of the Feast,\" observed Anna, shaking\nher head.  \"It is said that King Antiochus is raging like a bear robbed\nof her whelps at the flight of Nicanor and the disgraceful retreat of\nGiorgias.  A courier has ridden off, post-haste, bearer of despatches\nfrom the king to Lycias, the regent of the western provinces.\"\n\n\"Is it known what the despatches contain?\" asked Hadassah.\n\n\"It is reported in the city,\" said Anna, \"that Lycias is to raise a\nmore mighty and terrible army than any that has swept the country\nbefore--more mighty than those led by Apollonius, Seron, or Nicanor.\nKing Antiochus has sworn by all his false gods that he will destroy the\nAsmoneans root and branch.\"\n\n\"What God hath planted, who shall root up?  what God prospers, who\nshall destroy?\" cried Hadassah.  \"Thinks Antiochus Epiphanes that he\nhath power to strive against the Lord?\"\n\n\"He has terrible power to use against man,\" said Anna, who had a less\ncourageous spirit than her mistress.  \"Sharper measures than ever, it\nis said, are to be taken to put down our secret worship.  Woe unto them\nwho are found keeping the Passover to-morrow!  It will be done unto\nthem, as it was done to Solomona and her sons.\"\n\n\"Would that God would give me strength to attend the holy Feast!\" cried\nHadassah, on whom the idea of danger following its celebration appeared\nto act as a stimulant; \"no fear of man should keep me away.  But He who\nwithholds the power accepts the will of His servant.\"\n\n\"I will go with my uncle Abishai,\" said Zarah.\n\n\"To rejoice and give thanks,\" cried Hadassah.\n\nBut Zarah's sinking heart could not respond to any accents of joy.  She\nbowed her head on he clasped hands, and faintly murmured,--\n\n\"To pray for you, for myself, and--\"\n\nNo human ear could catch the word which pale lips inaudibly framed.\n\n\"Go to our young Greek guest, Anna,\" Hadassah.  \"Bear to him some of\nthis ripe, cooling fruit, and tell him of the triumphs of Judas.\nThough Lycidas be but a heathen,\" she added, as her handmaiden quitted\nthe apartment to do her bidding, \"he has a soul to admire, if he cannot\nemulate, the lofty deeds of our heroes.\"\n\nIn a brief space of time Anna returned to the upper room, with alarm\nand surprise depicted on her face.\n\n\"I can nowhere find the Greek lord,\" she exclaimed.  \"He has made his\nescape from the house.  There is nothing left but his mantle, and that\nhad fallen near the spring.\"\n\nHadassah glanced inquiringly at Zarah.  But the maiden betrayed no\nsurprise, uttered no word.  She only trembled a little, as if from\ncold; for the sultry heat of Nisan seemed to her suddenly to have\nchanged to the chill of winter.  Hadassah made little observation on\nthe flight of Lycidas until Anna had again quitted the apartment, when\nthe widow lady said abruptly,--\n\n\"It was strange to leave without a word of farewell, a word of thanks,\nafter having been for months treated as a guest, almost as a son!\"\n\nZarah, with her cold, nervous fingers, was unconsciously engaged in\ntearing the edge of her veil into a fringe.\n\n\"If I were not uneasy regarding the safety of Abishai,\" resumed\nHadassah--\n\nBut here, for the first time in her life, Zarah, with an appearance of\nimpatience, interrupted the speech of her revered relative.\n\n\"Have no fear for Abishai,\" cried the maiden, raising her head, and\nthrowing back the long tresses which, from her drooping position, had\nfallen over her pallid face.  \"Have no fear for Abishai,\" she repeated.\n\"The Greek will never repay your generous hospitality by revenging his\nprivate injuries upon your son.  I can answer for his forbearance.\"\n\n\"You are right, my child,\" said Hadassah, tenderly.  \"I did Lycidas a\nwrong by expressing a doubt.  Abishai is secure in his silence; and,\nsuch being the case, I believe--nay, I feel assured--that, it is better\nthat we harbour the stranger here no longer.  I am thankful that\nLycidas has left us though his manner of departing seem somewhat\nchurlish.\"\n\nWas Zarah thankful also?  Perhaps she was, though a miserable void\nseemed to be left in young heart, which she felt that nothing could\never fill up.  More an orphan than the fatherless and motherless, more\ndesolate than the widow, loving and beloved, yet--save for one sick and\naged woman--alone in the world, it seemed to Zarah that a slight tie\nbound her to life, and that even that tie was gradually breaking.  On\nthe eve of that day of sore trial, the spring behind the dwelling had\nquite dried up: not a single drop gushed forth from the hill to revive\nthe fading oleanders.\n\nJust before sunset a laden mule was driven to the door of Hadassah's\nhumble retreat.  It was led by Joab, a Jew who had in former years been\nservant to the lady, and who had been one of those who had bravely\nassisted in digging the grave of the martyrs.  His presence, therefore,\nin that unfrequented spot excited no alarm.\n\n\"Anna,\" said he, addressing the handmaid who stood in the doorway (for\nhe knew her by name), \"help me to unload my mule; and do you bear what\nI bring to your mistress.\"\n\n\"From whence comes all this?\" asked Anna, with no small curiosity.\n\n\"I met to-day,\" replied Joab, \"the same stranger whom we caught lurking\namidst the olives on the night of the burial of Solomona--(that was\nnigh being his last night upon earth!)  He looked ghastly, as if\nhimself new risen from the grave, and scarcely able to drag his steps\nalong.  I helped to raise him on my mule, and it bore him to a house in\nthe city which he mentioned.  I doubt whether the Gentile recognized\nme--his mind seemed to be strangely wandering--till I asked him where\nhe had been since we had met by moonlight under a tree; and then he\nstarted, and looked fixedly into my face.  He knew me, and did not\nforget that I had been one to spare his life by stepping over the\nspear,\" continued the muleteer, with a grim smile.  \"The Gentile is not\nungrateful.  I suppose that he remembered that he owed a debt in\nanother quarter also, for he bade me return in a few hours; and when I\ndid so, charged me to bear these things to the dwelling of the Lady\nHadassah--ay, and gave me this purse of silver for her handmaid.\"\n\n\"The Lord Lycidas has a noble heart!  Would that he were a son of\nAbraham!\" exclaimed the delighted Anna, as she received the gift of the\nGreek.  With mingled curiosity and pleasure Anna then carried up what\nJoab had brought to the housetop, on which the Hebrew ladies were then\nsitting, for the sake of the cooling breeze of even.  At the bidding of\nHadassah, Anna removed the outer wrappings which enclosed what Lycidas\nhad sent, and drew forth a store of goodly gifts, selected with\nexquisite taste--graceful ornaments, embroidery in gold, the lamp of\ndelicate workmanship, the mirror of polished steel.  Anna could not\nforbear uttering exclamations of admiration; but Hadassah and her\ngrand-daughter looked on in grave silence, until a scroll was handed to\nthe former, which she opened and read aloud.\n\n\"With these worthless tokens of remembrance, accept the deep gratitude\nof one who has learned in a few too brief months under your roof more\nthan he could elsewhere have learned in a life-time, of the loftiness\nof faith and the heroism of virtue.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII.\n\nTHE PASSOVER FEAST.\n\nVery different was the celebration of the Feast of Unleavened Bread in\nthe days of Antiochus Epiphanes from what it had been in the palmy\ntimes when the children of Israel were swayed by their own native\nkings.  There was now no mighty gathering together of the people from\nDan to Beersheba; herdsmen driving their lowing cattle, shepherds\nleading their bleating flocks from the slopes of Carmel, and the\npastures beneath the snow-capt heights of Lebanon.  Fishermen left not\ntheir nets by the shores of the inland lakes, nor their boats drawn up\non the coast by the sea, to go up, as their fathers had gone, to\nworship the Lord in Zion.  There were no pilgrims from Sharon's plains\nor the mountains of Gilead.  Jerusalem was not crowded with joyful\nworshippers, and her streets made almost impassable by the droves and\nflocks collected for sacrifice, as when Josiah held his\nnever-to-be-forgotten Passover Feast.  There were no loud bursts of\njoyful music, as when the singers, the sons of Asaph, ranged in their\nappointed places, led the chorus of glad thanksgiving.  Groups of\nHebrews, by twos and threes, stealthily made their way, as if bound on\nsome secret and dangerous errand, to the few houses in which the owners\nwere bold enough or pious enough to prepare the Paschal feast.\n\nAmongst these dwellings was that of the elder Salathiel, a man who, in\ndespite of threatened persecution, still dared to worship God according\nto the law as given through Moses.  In an upper room in his house all\nwas set ready for the celebration of the feast, in order as seemly as\ncircumstances would permit.  The Paschal lamb had been roasted whole in\na circular pit in the ground; it had been roasted transfixed on two\nspits thrust through it, one lengthwise and one transversely, so as to\nform a cross.  The wild and bitter herbs, with which it was to be\neaten, had been carefully washed and prepared.  On the table had been\nplaced plates containing unleavened bread, and four cups filled with\nred wine mingled with water.\n\nThere had been difficulty in gathering together on this occasion, in\nthe house of Salathiel, even the ten individuals that formed the\nsmallest number deemed by the Hebrews sufficient for the due\ncelebration of the feast.  Three of the persons present were females,\ntwo of them belonging to Salathiel's own family.  The third was Zarah,\nwho, closely shrouded in her large linen veil, came under the escort of\nAbishai her uncle.  The guests arrived late, having had to change their\ncourse more than once, from the suspicion that they were dogged by\nSyrian spies.\n\nGreetings, in that upper chamber, were interchanged in low tones;\nwhispered conversation was held as to the recent events, the tidings of\nwhich had thrilled like an electric shock through the heart of\nJerusalem.  The victories of Judas Maccabeus were in every mind and on\nevery tongue.  Glad prophecies were circulated amongst the guests that\nthe next Passover would not be held in secret, and kept with maimed\nrites like the present; but that ere the circling year brought round\nthe holy season again, the sanctuary would be cleansed, the city free,\nand that white-robed priests and Levites would gather together in the\nopen face of day, where the smoke of sacrifice should rise from the\naltar of God's Temple.\n\nZarah was the most silent and sad of those who met in the house of\nSalathiel.  Many thoughts were flowing through her mind, which she\nwould not have dared to put into words.\n\n\"Is it sinful to desire that the blessings of the covenant were not so\nexclusive?\"  Thus mused the young Hebrew maid.  \"Is it sinful to wish\nthat the wall of partition could be broken down, and that Jews and\nGentiles, descended from one common Father, and created by one merciful\nGod, could meet to break bread and drink wine in loving communion\ntogether?  And, if my mother Hadassah reads Scripture aright, may not\nsuch a time be approaching?  Precious and goodly is the golden\nseven-branched candlestick of the Temple; but is not the Sun of\nRighteousness to arise with healing on His wings (Mal. iv. 2), and will\nthe candlestick then be needed?  The candles illumine but one chosen\nspot; the sun shines from the east to the west, the glory and light of\nthe world!  Can God care only for the children of Abraham?  Lycidas has\ntold us of far-distant isles in the West, where the poor savages are\nsunk in darkest idolatry, where they actually offer human sacrifices to\ntheir huge wicker-idols.  Yet might not God in His loving-kindness have\nmercy even on such wretches as these?  Would it be quite impossible\nthat Britons should receive the light of His Word, even as they receive\nthe light of His sunshine?  I would fain cling to this hope; I trust\nthat the hope is not presumptuous.  And if even these savage islanders\nbe not quite beyond reach of the mercy of the Great Father, will not\nthat mercy embrace the Greeks, the brave, the noble, the gifted?  But\nmy thoughts wander upon dangerous ground.  Can there be salvation for\nany that may not partake of the Paschal lamb?  Is not exclusion from\nthis feast exclusion from pardoning grace?  Oh that there could be a\nLamb whose blood could take away the sins of all the world--a Sacrifice\nof such priceless worth, that not in Jerusalem alone, but through all\nthe earth, there might be forgiveness, and hope, and salvation for all\nwho in faith partake of its merits!\"\n\nThe solemn feast now commenced.  The bread was blessed by Salathiel,\nbroken, and then distributed around.  The first cupful of wine was\nsilently shared; but when the second was passed around, the lesser\nHallel, being the 113th and 114th psalms, were chanted in low subdued\ntones.\n\nSuddenly, in the midst of a verse, every voice was silenced at once,\nevery head turned to listen.  The clank of a weapon that had fallen on\nthe paved courtyard below, was to the startled assembly above what the\nblood-hound's bay is to the deer.\n\n\"The Syrians have found us; we are betrayed!\" ejaculated Abishai,\nstarting up and drawing his sword.\n\n\"Fly! fly!\" was echoed from mouth to mouth.  The apartment in which the\nHebrews were assembled had two doors--one communicating by a staircase\nwith the courtyard below, the other, on the opposite side of the room,\nleading to the roof, which was near enough to other dwellings to afford\na tolerable chance of escape to those who should make their way over\nthem under cover of the dusk.  It was partly on account of this\nadvantage presented by Salathiel's house that it had been chosen as the\nscene of the Paschal Feast.  The second door, through which escape\nmight thus be effected, had been prudently left wide open, and at the\nfirst alarm there was a general rush made towards it.\n\nTerror so often has the effect of confusing the mind, that the\nimpressions made by passing events, though painfully vivid in\ncolouring, are not distinct in their outlines.  Zarah could have given\nno clear account of the scene which followed, which was to her like a\nhorrible dream.  The instinct to make her escape was strong; but as she\nattempted to fly, the maiden's veil caught in something, she knew not\nwhat--it was three or four seconds--they seemed as many hours--before\nshe could extricate it.  Zarah heard thundering noises at the one door,\nrushing sounds of flight at the other; then there was a bursting open\nof the frail barrier which divided her from the enemy, and Zarah felt\nrather than saw that the place was filled with soldiers!  One sight was\nindelibly stamped on her brain--it was that of Abishai all streaming\nwith blood, his eyes glaring and glazed, his teeth clenched, as he\nhissed out the word \"apostate!\" in the last pangs of death.  Zarah knew\nthat it was death.\n\nThen rude hands were laid on herself; and the terrified girl felt as\nthe gazelle feels under the claws of the tiger!  She was too much\nalarmed to have breath even to utter a scream.\n\n\"Hold! harm not the girl!\" cried a voice which sounded to Zarah\nstrangely familiar, though she knew not where she could possibly have\nheard it before; and she saw a tall officer in Syrian dress, the same\nwho has been introduced to the reader more than once under the name of\nPollux, who appeared to be in command of the assailing party.  Zarah,\nin her agony of terror, stretched out her hands for protection to one\nin whose features, even at that moment, she recognized the Hebrew type.\nBut Zarah could not appeal for mercy save by that supplicating gesture;\nhorror so overpowered her senses that she swooned away; and had the\nsteel then done its cruel work, she would have felt no pain.  But the\ncommand of Antiochus had been rather to seize than to slay; and the\nsoldiers, by the order of Pollux, carried off as their only prisoner a\nsenseless maiden, leaving the dead body of Abishai on the floor dyed\nwith his blood.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX.\n\nA PRISON.\n\nFrom her long swoon Zarah awoke with a sensation of indescribable\nhorror.  The cold drops stood on her brow, and there was a painful\ntightness at her heart.  The poor girl could not at once recall what\nhad happened, but knew that it was something dreadful.  The first image\nthat rose up in her mind was that of the expiring Abishai: Zarah\nshuddered, trembled, raised herself by an effort to a sitting posture,\nand wildly gazing around her, exclaimed, \"Where am I? what can have\nhappened?\"\n\nThe place in which the maiden found herself was almost quite dark, but\nas she glanced upwards she could see pale stars gleaming in through a\nsmall and heavily-barred window.  She knew that she must be in a Syrian\nprison.  Pressing both her hands to her forehead, the young captive\nrecalled the terrible scene of which she had been a witness.  \"Oh, God\nbe praised that beloved Hadassah was not there!\"\n\nZarah repeated again and again to herself, as if to strengthen her\ngrasp on the only consolation which at first offered itself to her\nsoul.  \"Abishai's fate is awful--awful!\"  Zarah shuddered with mingled\ncompassion and horror.  \"But oh, it is better, far better for him--my\npoor kinsman--that he did not fall into the hands of the enemy alive,\nas I have done!  That would have been more awful still!\"\n\nZarah was no high-spirited heroine, but a timid, gentle, loving girl,\nsubject to fears, shrinking from danger, peculiarly sensitive to pain\nwhether physical or mental.  Though related both to Solomona and\nHadassah, Zarah had neither the calm fortitude of the one, nor the\nexalted spirituality of the other; she deemed herself alike incapable\nof uttering the inspired words of a prophetess, or showing the firm\nendurance of a martyr.\n\nAnd it was a martyr's trial that was now looming before the imprisoned\nmaiden: she would, like Solomona and her sons, have to renounce either\nher faith or her life.  To Zarah this was a terrible alternative, for\nthough, but a few hours previously the poor maiden had longed for death\nto come and release her from sorrow, the idea of its approach, heralded\nby such tortures as Hebrew captives had had to undergo, was unspeakably\ndreadful to the tender spirit of Zarah.\n\n\"Oh, I fear that I shall never endure to the end; my courage will give\nway; I shall disgrace myself, my country, my race, and draw on myself\nthe wrath of my God!\" exclaimed Zarah, starting up in terror, after\nrehearsing to herself the ordeal to which her faith was likely to be\nexposed.  \"Woe is me!--what shall I do--what shall I do--is there no\nway of escape?\"  Those massive stone walls, those thick iron bars were\nsufficient answer to the question.  Zarah leant against the wall, and\nraised her clasped hands towards the glimpse of sky seen between those\ndark bars.\n\n\"Oh, my God, have mercy upon me!\" she cried; \"feeble, utterly helpless\nin myself, I cast myself upon Thee!  Thou hast said, _When thou passest\nthrough the waters, I will be with thee; when thou walkest through the\nfire, thou shalt not be burned_.  Carry the weak lamb in Thy bosom; let\nme feel beneath the everlasting arms!\"  The tears were flowing fast\ndown Zarah's cheeks as she sobbed forth her almost inarticulate prayer:\n\"I ask not to be saved from death--not even from torture--if it be Thy\nwill that I should endure it; but oh, save me from falling away from\nThee; save me from denying my faith, and breaking the heart of my\nmother!---And I shall surely be saved!\" said Zarah more calmly, her\nfaith gaining strength from the exercise of prayer.  \"Perhaps the Lord\nwill make the pain tolerable--He to whom all things are possible can do\nso--or He may even send an angel to protect me, as He sent His bright\nand holy ones to guard Elisha.\" The imagination of Zarah pictured a\nbeing with glorious wings flying down to her rescue, with a countenance\nresembling that of Lycidas--to her the type of perfect beauty.  \"Or the\nLord may raise up some earthly friend,\" continued Zarah.  Then fancy\nagain pictured a Lycidas, but this time wanting the wings.  The maiden\nstopped her weeping, and dashed the limpid drops from her eyes.  A\ngleam of brightness seemed to illumine the dark prospect before her.\nHow eagerly do we listen to the voice of hope, even if it be but the\necho of a wish, an echo thrown back from the cold hard rock which can\nonly repeat the utterance of our own heart's desires; it comes back to\nus like music!  Zarah's prison would have been far more dreary to the\nmaiden, her approaching trial far more dreadful, had she known the fact\nthat Lycidas had gone to Bethlehem, and had heard nothing of the peril\nof her whom he loved.\n\nIn the same unconsciousness of Zarah's imminent peril, another, to whom\nshe was dearer than the sight of the eyes or the breath of life, lay\nextended on the ground in sleep, many miles from Jerusalem, with no\npillow but that stalwart arm, around which was still twined a slight\nflaxen strand.  A monarch might have envied the dream which made the\nfeatures of the sleeper relax into an expression of happiness which,\nwhen waking, they seldom indeed wore.  Maccabeus, lying on the parched\ndry earth, was in thought seated in an Eden of flowers, with Zarah at\nhis side, her small hand clasped in his own.  She was listening with\nbashful smile and downcast eyes to words such as the warrior had never\nbreathed to her, save in his dreams.  All was peace within and without,\npeace deepening into rapture, even as the sky above appeared almost\ndark from the intensity of its blue!  Such was the Hebrew's dream of\nZarah!  How different the dream from the actual reality!  Had Maccabeus\nknown the actual position of the helpless girl, to guard whom from the\nslightest wrong he would so willingly have shed his life's blood, even\nthat heart which had never yet quelled in the face of peril would have\nknown for once keenest anguish of fear!\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XX.\n\nTHE COURT OF ANTIOCHUS.\n\nFierce had been the rage and disappointment of Antiochus Epiphanes on\nhearing of the result of the night attack on his forces at Emmaus, and\nthe subsequent retreat of Giorgias without striking a blow.  In vain\nthe troops of that too cautious leader endeavoured, by exaggerating the\naccount of the numbers of their enemies, to cover their own shame.\nAntiochus was furious alike at what he termed the insolence of a\nhandful of outlaws, and the cowardice of his picked troops, who had\nflaunted their banners and gone forth as if to assured victory, and had\nthen fled like some gay-plumed bird before the swoop of the eagle.  Not\nonly the oppressed inhabitants of Jerusalem and its environs had cause\nto tremble at the rage of the tyrant, but his own Syrian officers and\nthe obsequious courtiers who stood in his presence.  And none more so\nthan Pollux, once the chosen companion and special favourite of the\nSyrian king.  Pollux had been so loaded with wealth and honours by his\ncapricious master, as to have become an object of envy to his\nfellow-courtiers, and especially so to Lysimachus, a Syrian of high\nbirth, who had seen himself passed in the race for royal favour by a\nrival whom he despised.  But there was little cause for envying Pollux,\nthe wretched parasite of a tyrant.  Alas, for him who has bartered\nconscience and self-respect to win a monarch's smile!  He has left the\nfirm though narrow path of duty, to find himself on a treacherous\nquicksand, where the ground on which he places his foot soon begins to\ngive way beneath him!\n\nA few months before the time of which I am writing, Pollux, after a\nlong sojourn in Antioch, then the capital of the Syrian dominions, had\nrejoined Antiochus in Jerusalem, where the monarch was holding his\ncourt in a luxurious palace which he had caused to be erected.  It was\nhere that Pollux first experienced the fickleness of royal favour.  The\ncourtier had been present at the trial of Solomona and her brave sons\nwithout making the slightest effort to save them, though their fate had\nmoved him to something more than pity.  But though Pollux could to a\ncertain extent trample down compunction, and force his conscience to\nsilence, he had not perfect command over his nerves.  He might consent\nto the perpetration of horrors, but he could not endure to witness\nthem; and, as we have seen, he had quietly, and, as he hoped, without\nattracting notice, quitted the chamber of torture.\n\nThe keen eye of jealousy had, however, keenly watched the movements of\nPollux, and Lysimachus had not failed to make the most of the weakness\nbetrayed by his rival.\n\n\"Pollux has sympathy with the Hebrews,\" observed Lysimachus to the\ntyrant, when Antiochus was chafing at being baffled by the fortitude of\nhis victims.  \"Pollux may wear the Syrian garb, and he loaded with\nfavours by the mighty Syrian king, but he remains at heart a Jew.\"\n\nFrom that day Pollux found himself an object of suspicion, and having\nonce reached the quicksand, he gradually sank lower and lower,\nnotwithstanding his desperate efforts to save himself from impending\nruin.  His most costly gifts, his most fulsome flattery, his assurances\nof deathless devotion to \"the greatest, noblest of the kings who sway\nrealms conquered by Alexander, and surpass the fame of Macedonia's\ngodlike hero,\" met but the coldest response.  Pollux had once been wont\nto delight the king with his brilliant wit; now his forced jests fell\nlike sparks upon water.  Antiochus was growing tired of his favourite,\nas a child grows tired of the toy which he hugs one day, to break and\nfling aside on the next.\n\nAll the more embarrassed from having to simulate ease, all the more\nwretched because forcing himself to seem merry, with the sword of\nDamocles ever hanging over his head, Pollux, in the midst of luxury and\npomp, was one of the most miserable of mankind.  The court became to\nhim at last an almost intolerable place.  In an attempt at once to free\nhimself from its restraints, and to win back the favour of the king by\nmilitary service, in an evil hour for himself, he had volunteered to\njoin the forces of Nicanor.  The courtier was incited by no military\nardour; he had no desire to fall on the field of victory; Pollux was\nnot a coward, but he clung to life as those well may cling who have\nforfeited all hope of anything but misery beyond it.  Pollux, as we\nhave seen, had accompanied Giorgias when that general led a detachment\nof chosen troops to make that night attack upon Judas which had proved\nso unsuccessful.  With Giorgias, Pollux had returned to Jerusalem,\ncovered with shame instead of glory.  More than his fair share of the\nobloquy incurred had fallen to the unfortunate courtier.\n\n\"Be assured, O most mighty monarch\"--thus had Lysimachus addressed the\ndisappointed tyrant--\"that had there been no sympathizers with the\nHebrew rebels in the army of the king, Giorgias would have returned to\nJerusalem with the head of Judas Maccabeus hanging at his saddle-bow.\"\n\nThe insinuation was understood--the instilled poison worked its effect.\nAntiochus had met his former favourite with an ominous frown.  He did\nnot, however, consign Pollux to irremediable ruin; he gave him a chance\nof redeeming his character from the imputation of treachery towards the\nSyrian cause.  Pollux received a commission from Antiochus to attack\nand seize a party of Hebrews who, according to information brought by\nspies, were to celebrate the Passover Feast in Salathiel's house, in\ndefiance of the edict by which the king had endeavoured to crush the\nreligion of those who still worshipped the God of their fathers.\n\nAn office more repugnant to the feelings of Pollux could scarcely have\nbeen assigned to him, but he dared not show the slightest hesitation in\nobeying the mandate; nay, the courtier even feigned joy at the\nopportunity given him of serving the king by rooting out the religion\nwhich, in the secret depths of his heart, Pollux regarded as the only\ntrue one; for he could not obliterate from memory lessons once learned\non his mother's knee.  The poor wretch was, as it were, sunk in the\nquicksand up to his lips, and would have clutched at red-hot iron, had\nsuch been the only means of drawing him upwards out of the living grave\nin which he was being gradually entombed.\n\nWearing the mask of mirth to conceal his misery, Pollux, before setting\nout on his hateful mission, jested in regard to the number of fanatic\nJews whom he would enclose in his toils, and bring to make sport before\nthe king, to fight wild beasts in the large gymnasium, which had been\nerected within Jerusalem for games which the Jews regarded as unlawful\nand sinful.  The courtier, in the presence of Antiochus, affected the\ngay delight of the hunter, trying to cover with a garb of levity the\nremorse which was gnawing at his heart, and not betray even by a look,\nthe secret torture which he felt.\n\nWe know what followed the attack upon Salathiel's house: the flight of\nthe Hebrews, the fall of Abishai, whose last word and dying look\ninflicted upon Pollux a pang keen enough to have satisfied the fiercest\nthirst for revenge.\n\nWhen tidings were brought to the palace that the result of the boasted\nexertions of Pollux was the death of a single Hebrew and the capture of\none young girl, the wrath of the tyrant Antiochus Epiphanes rose higher\nthan before.  His courtiers, catching the infection of the anger of the\nking, showed something of what would have been the indignant rage of an\naudience crowding the Coliseum at Rome in the expectation of gloating\non the sight of many victims flung to the lions, had the spectacle been\nreduced to the sacrifice of one.\n\nAntiochus, however, determined to have what sport he could out of the\nsingle poor gazelle that had been run down by his hounds.  One\nwho--albeit, of the weaker sex--had been venturesome enough to keep the\nPassover feast, might make sufficient resistance to his arbitrary will\nto afford him a little amusement, when none more exciting could be had.\nThe monarch, therefore, after he had enjoyed his noonday siesta, gave\ncommand that the Hebrew prisoner should be brought into his presence in\nhis grand hall of audience.\n\nThere sat the tyrant of Syria on an ivory throne, his footstool a\ncrouching silver lion, over his head a canopy of gold.  In front of the\nking was a splendid altar, on which fire was constantly burning before\na small image of Jupiter; and the luxurious fragrance of incense,\nfrequently thrown on this fire, filled the magnificent hall.  Many\ncourtiers, in splendid apparel, clustered on either side below the dais\nwhich raised the throned monarch above them all.  Behind these were\nnumerous slaves, mostly Nubians, richly and gaudily dressed, some of\nwhom held aloft large fans of the peacock's many-tinted plumes.  The\nwhole scene was one of gorgeous magnificence, the pomp and glory of the\nworld throwing its false halo of beauty over guilty power.\n\nAntiochus himself wore a robe crusted over with sparkling jewels, worth\nthe tribute of a conquered province.  He was, as his appearance has\nbeen handed down to us on coins, a kingly-looking man, with short\ncurled hair, and regular, strongly-marked features, but a receding\nforehead, and an expression cold and hard.  No one would expect from\nhim \"the milk of human kindness.\"  Antiochus looked what he was--a\nstern, merciless tyrant.  There was at this period no premonitory sign\nin the appearance of the king of that frightful disease which, within a\nyear's time, was to render him an object of horror and loathing to all\nwho approached him--a disease so exquisitely painful, that it seemed to\ncombine and exceed all the tortures which the tyrant had made his\nvictims endure.  Antiochus, glittering on his ivory throne, appeared to\nbe in the prime of health as well as the zenith of power; none guessed\nhow brief was the term of mortal existence remaining to the despot, on\nthe breath of whose lips now hung fortune or ruin, whose angry frown\nwas a sentence of death.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXI.\n\nTHE MAIDEN'S TRIAL.\n\nBefore this gorgeous assembly--before this terrible king--stood,\nsurrounded by guards, a trembling, shrinking girl, wrapping closer and\ncloser her linen veil around her slight form and drooping head.\n\n\"Tear off her veil!\" said the king.\n\nThe command was instantly obeyed, and, like the painful glare of\nnoonday to one brought suddenly out of darkness, the terrible splendour\nof the scene before her flashed upon Zarah.  Her exquisite beauty, as\nher face now flushed crimson with shame at having to meet, without the\nprotection of a veil, so many gazing eyes, then turned pale from\noverwhelming fear, caused an involuntary murmur of admiration to burst\nfrom the throng.\n\n\"No Herculean task to bend this willow wand,\" observed Antiochus, even\nhis hard stern countenance relaxing into a smile.  \"Bring her nearer.\"\nThe guards obeyed.  Zarah approached the king, but with timid,\nfaltering steps; how different from the firm tread with which a captive\nMaccabeus would have drawn nigh to the oppressor who might slay but\nnever subdue him!\n\n\"There is the altar of Jupiter Olympus--that of Venus would have been\nmore appropriate to so fair a votary,\" said Antiochus, with an oath;\n\"but it little matters which deity receives the homage, so that it be\nduly paid.  Maiden, throw some grains of yon incense into the flame,\nbend the knee in worship, and I promise you,\" the king added, with a\nlaugh, \"a gay house and a gallant husband, pearls and goodly array, and\nall else that a young maid's heart can desire.\"\n\nZarah did not stir; she did not appear to have even understood or heard\nthe words of the king, only her lips were moving in agonized prayer.\n\nAntiochus repeated more sternly his command to offer the incense.\n\n\"Oh, my God, help me; let me not be tried beyond what I can bear!\" was\nthe silent ejaculation which rose from the heart of the terror-stricken\ngirl, as she slightly shook her bended head as her only reply.\n\n\"What! silent still,\" cried Antiochus, with displeasure.  \"Know you\nnot, young mute, that we have workers of miracles here,\"--he pointed to\nsome black African slaves who performed the office of executioners;\n\"these are skilful to bring sounds, and those some of the shrillest,\nfrom lips the most closely sealed.\"\n\nIn terror Zarah raised her dark eyes and looked wildly around her, in\nthe vain hope of seeing some one, perhaps Lycidas himself, from whom\nshe might receive protection or pity.  But there was not a single\ncountenance amidst the gay throng of courtiers that promised anything\nbut cold indifference to, if not cruel amusement in her sufferings or\nher degradation; unless, perhaps, that of Pollux formed an exception.\nZarah's anxious gaze rested for a moment on his face with an imploring\nlook of entreaty, which might have touched a harder heart than his.\n\n\"I brook no more idle delay!\" cried Antiochus; \"as you love your life,\ndo sacrifice at once to my god.\"\n\n\"I cannot--I dare not!\" exclaimed the young maid.  Faint as was her\nutterance of the words, they were heard distinctly, so great was the\nsilence which prevailed through the assembly in that marble hall.\n\nThe answer surprised Antiochus and his courtiers.\n\n\"Ha! there is some resistance in the willow-wand then, after all!\"\ncried the king, half amused and half angry.  \"I warrant me tough boughs\ngrow on the tree from which that slender twig has sprung.  Tell me,\nfair rebel,\" he continued, \"your name and lineage, and the place of\nyour birth.\"\n\nZarah had firmly resolved that, come what might, she would betray no\nfriend; above all, that she would never draw down the fire of\npersecution upon the house of Hadassah.  In the midst of all the misery\nwhich she was enduring from personal fear, Zarah forgot not this\nresolution.\n\n\"My name is Zarah; I was born in Bethsura; my father was called Abner,\"\nfaltered forth the young maid.\n\nPollux involuntarily started and gasped, as if every word had been a\nlive coal dropped upon his bare breast.  It was well for him then that\nall eyes, even those of Lysimachus, were fixed at that moment on Zarah.\n\n\"Is your father living?\" inquired the king, who, in the common name of\nAbner, did not recognize the almost forgotten one previously borne by a\nfavourite.\n\n\"I know not,\" was the reply.\n\n\"Was he not with you at the rebellious meeting?\" asked Antiochus\nEpiphanes.\n\n\"No; I went with my uncle, who was slain: he was my only companion\nthither,\" said the trembling maiden, thankful to be able with truth to\nsay what would bring no person into peril.\n\nThere was a brief pause, to Zarah inexpressibly awful; then Antiochus\nEpiphanes, he who had looked on the dying agonies of Solomona and her\nsons, said in his stern voice of command, \"I am not wont to bid thrice,\nand woe to those who presume to neglect my bidding.  Throw incense on\nthat fire, or the consequences be upon your own head.  Others have\nexperienced ere this what it is to brave my displeasure and disobey my\ncommand.\"\n\nBewildered and terrified, Zarah suffered, as if scarcely conscious of\nthe import of the act, a few grains of incense to be put into her hand,\nthen, recovering her self-possession, she flung them from her with a\nlook of aversion and horror.\n\n\"Ha! is it so?\" thundered Antiochus; \"if the incense go not into the\nfire, the hand that held it shall go.  Executioners, do your work!\"\n\nFour of the fierce black slaves approached the young Hebrew maiden.\nShe clasped her hands, and shrieked out, \"Father, save me!\"  It was no\nmortal to whom she addressed that wild cry for help.\n\nBut the cry was answered by a mortal.  Pollux, as if moved by an\nirresistible impulse, sprang forward, by a gesture of his hand arrested\nthe movements of the executioners, and bent his knee before Epiphanes.\n\n\"The mighty king,\" he began, with a great effort to appear indifferent\nand at his ease; \"the mighty king has spoken of magicians who have\nskill to force out sounds from lips that are dumb.  I dispute not the\npower of yonder black magi, but I should deem one their superior in the\nmysterious art who could bring songs rather than shrieks from a Hebrew;\nwho could subdue the proud will rather than torture the body.  Oh,\nillustrious monarch of the world, let me but for twenty-four hours try\nmy potent spells upon this young rebel, and I will answer for it with\nmy head that, before the twenty-four hours be past, she shall gladly\nand cheerfully do sacrifice to any god in Olympus, feast on swine's\nflesh, dance as a Bacchante, or drink wine, like Belshazzar of old, out\nof the vessels of the Temple.  Try my powers, O king, and according to\nmy failure or success, so be the maiden's fate and mine!\"\n\nAntiochus hesitated; with a look of keen suspicion he regarded the\nkneeling courtier.  Zarah watched the king's countenance with\nbreathless anxiety--a respite even of twenty-four hours seemed to the\npoor captive so priceless a boon.  Intense was her relief when she\nheard the tyrant's reply to Pollux:--\n\n\"Twenty-four hours' delay you have asked, and I grant.  It were a\nnobler triumph to make a proselyte than to slay a victim.  I myself, as\nyou well know, Pollux,\" continued the tyrant, with sarcastic emphasis,\n\"won such a triumph myself.  Take yonder obstinate Jewess, and work\nupon her your spells, whatever they may be; but hear my final\ndecision,\" the king raised his hand and uttered a deep oath: \"if\nto-morrow you have failed in doing what you now undertake to perform,\nif the girl be obdurate still, the moment when she refuses to do\nsacrifice shall be your last upon earth--she shall go to the furnace,\nand her protector to the block.\"\n\nAnd then, with an imperious gesture of command, Antiochus dismissed the\nassembly.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXII.\n\nA BREATHING SPACE.\n\nThe captive was not taken back to prison-chamber which she had occupied\nduring the preceding night, but to an apartment in the palace--one\nbelonging to the suite appropriated to Pollux.  She was confined within\na room so luxurious, that, save from the door being fastened to prevent\nher exit, and there being no possibility of escaping through the\nlatticed window, Zarah could scarcely have realized that she was a\nprisoner still.  The floor of the apartment was inlaid with costly\nmarbles; on the walls were depicted scenes taken from mythological\nsubjects; luxurious divans invited to repose; and vases, wreathed with\nbrilliant flowers and filled with rose-water, were surrounded by others\nloaded with a profusion of fruit and a variety of dainties.  The young\nHebrew maiden, accustomed to the simplicity of Hadassah's humble home,\ngazed around in wonder.\n\nWhen left alone by the guards, the first impulse of the captive was to\nkneel and return thanks to her heavenly Protector for the merciful\nrespite granted to her.  Zarah was young, and hope was strong within\nher.  What might not happen in the space of twenty-four hours to effect\ncomplete deliverance!  She then laved her face, hands, and arms, and\nthe tresses of her long hair, in the cool, fragrant water, and found\ngreat refreshment from her ablutions.  It was then with a sense of\nenjoyment, at which she herself was surprised, that Zarah partook of\nthe fruit before her.  Nature had been almost exhausted, not only by\nthe terrible excitement and alarm which the maiden had had to endure,\nbut by sleeplessness and abstinence from food.  Coarse bread had indeed\nbeen brought to her in her prison, but had remained untouched, not only\nbecause the poor captive had had no appetite for eating, but because\nthe bread, being leavened, was not at that season lawful food for a\nJewess.  Zarah now carefully abstained from any part of the collation\nwhich she deemed might contain anything which Moses had judged unclean,\nand chiefly partook of the fruits, which were pure, as God Himself had\nmade them, and which were, of all kinds of food, that most refreshing\nto her parched and burning lips.\n\n\"How good is my Lord, to spread a table for me thus in this wilderness\nof trial!\" murmured Zarah; and she felt much as the Israelites must\nhave felt when they first saw the glistening bread of heaven lying on\nthe face of the desert.  The maiden's spirit was soothed and cheered,\nas well as her frame refreshed; and, reclining on one of the luxurious\ndivans, she was able with tolerable calmness to review the exciting\nevents of the day.\n\n\"How thankful I am that, with all my cowardice and weakness, I was\npreserved by my Lord from doing anything very wicked!\" thought Zarah.\n\"I was not suffered either to betray my friends or to deny my God; and\nyet my faith almost failed me.  I could scarcely endure the terror: how\ncould I endure the pain?  But will not He who supported me under the\none sustain me also through the other, if I must die for my faith\nto-morrow before that terrible king?  I will not weary myself by\nthinking; I will just trust all to my God.  It is so sweet to rest in\nHis love, like a babe on her mother's bosom.\"\n\nZarah lay perfectly still for some time, letting her overstrained\nnerves regain their usual tone.  It was such a comfort to be quite\nalone, with no sound to disturb save the cooing of doves from a garden\nwhich separated the palace of Epiphanes from Mount Zion.\n\nThe young captive then arose, went to the lattice, and looked forth.\nPleasant to the sight was the rich foliage of the juniper and acacia,\nthe terebinth and the palm, the orange, almond, and citron, watered\nfrom marble-bordered tanks by artificial irrigation, which counteracted\nthe effects of a season sultry and dry.  Here and there fountains threw\nup their sparkling waters, transformed to diamonds in the sun.  But the\neyes of the maid of Judah wandered beyond this paradise of beauty,\ncreated for the pleasure of a tyrant, and rested on the holy Mount and\nthe sacred Temple on its summit.  If the very stones, nay, the dust, of\nJerusalem have an interest to Gentile strangers, with what feelings\nmust a child of Abraham regard the spot on which the Temple was reared!\nAs Zarah gazed on the holy pile before her, words of Scripture came\ninto the mind of Hadassah's grand-daughter, which filled her with a joy\nwhich was indeed nourished by the dew of heavenly hope, but had its\nroot in earthly affection.  Slowly and emphatically Zarah repeated to\nherself: \"_Also the sons of the stranger, that join themselves to the\nLord, to serve Him, and to love the name of the Lord, to be his\nservants, every one that keepeth the Sabbath from polluting it, and\ntaketh hold of My covenant; even them will I bring to My holy mountain,\nand make them joyful in My house of prayer: for Mine house shall be\ncalled an house of prayer for all people_\" (Isa. lvi. 6, 7).\n\n\"Oh, blessed promise!\" exclaimed Zarah.  \"Israel has been, like Joseph,\nthe chosen amongst many brethren, to wear the many-coloured robe\nprepared by his Father, and to go first, through bondage and\ntribulation, to dignity and honour.  But his brethren are not\nforgotten: he shall yet be a blessing to them all, even to them who\nhave hated and sold him.  Through Israel shall light spread throughout\nthe dark world, and with the bread of life shall the hungry nations be\nfed.\"\n\nZarah was interrupted in her musings by the entrance of Nubian slaves,\nwho silently replenished the vases, lighted silver lamps as the day was\nclosing, placed rich garments upon the divan, and then retired from her\npresence.  Their coming had caused a flutter in the timid heart of the\ncaptive; and it was a relief when they had left her again to that\nsolitude which scarcely seemed to be loneliness, so sweet were the\nthoughts which had been her companions.  Zarah went up to the divan,\nand looked admiringly on the silken robes and richly-embroidered veil.\n\n\"These are meant for my wear,\" said the maiden; \"but I will not touch\nthem.  The Gentiles would allure me, as the serpent allured Eve our\nmother, by the lust of the eyes and the pride of life.  Embroidered\nrobes are not for the prisoner, nor silver zone for the martyr.  This\nsimple blue garment, spun and woven by my own hands, is good enough to\ndie in.\"\n\nZarah watched the sun as it sank beneath the western horizon, its last\nbeams lingering on the pinnacles of the Temple.\n\n\"Perhaps this will be my last evening on earth,\" thought the prisoner.\n\"Ere the sun set again, I may have entered into eternal rest.\"  A deep\nsense of holy peace stole into the maiden's heart, though the\nexpression of her beautiful countenance was pensive as she meditated on\nthe future.  \"I shall no more join in worship with my brethren below;\nbut perhaps, while they gather together in secret, with perils around\nthem, my eyes shall see the King in His beauty, shall behold the land\nthat is very far off.  And will not He for whom I die hear now my\nfeeble prayers for those whom I leave behind?  Never have I felt that I\ncould plead with such child-like confidence before Him as I do now;\npraying not only for myself, but for those who are dearer than self.\nOh, may the Lord hear, and graciously answer, the supplications of His\nchild!\"\n\nZarah knelt down, and poured out her simple Prayer.  First, she\nbesought God for Hadassah; that He would comfort the bereaved one,\ngrant her rest from her tribulation, and give her the desire of her\nheart.  Tears mingled with this prayer, as Zarah thought of the\ndesolation to which the aged widow was left.  \"Let her not weep long\nfor me,\" murmured the maiden; \"and oh, never let her want a loving one\nto tend her in sickness and comfort her in sorrow, better than I could\nhave done.\"  The Hebrew girl then prayed for her country, and for those\nwho were fighting for its freedom; especially for Judas Maccabeus, that\nGod would be his shield and defender, and cover his head in the day of\nbattle.  Zarah forgot not her unknown father.  She now pleaded for him\nmore fervently than she had ever pleaded before; and, by some\nmysterious connection in her mind, thoughts of her lost parent linked\nthemselves to remembrance of the generous courtier to whose\nintercession she had owed her present respite from torture and death.\nThe young prisoner implored her Lord not to let the Syrian suffer for\nhis kindness to a stranger, but to requite it sevenfold into his own\nbosom.\n\nZarah did not yet rise from her knees.  Her supplications became yet\nmore fervent as she prayed for another, dearest of all.  No fear of\ndispleasing God now marred the comfort which the maiden found in\nsupplication for a Gentile.  It was not sinful, she thought, for the\ndying to love.  Her misery might be the means which God would deign to\nemploy in winning Lycidas from the errors of idolatrous worship.  She\nmight be permitted, as it were to beckon to her beloved from the other\nside of the grave.\n\nZarah arose from her devotions feeling almost happy.  It seemed to her\nas if the worst bitterness of death were already passed.  She again\npartook, with a thankful spirit, of needful refreshment, and afterwards\nlaid herself down to rest.  The prisoner had had no refreshing sleep\nduring the preceding terrible night, and now her eyelids were heavy.\nSoft slumber stole over Zarah, as the Psalmist's words were on her\nlips, _I will both lay me down in peace and sleep, for Thou, Lord, only\nmakest me dwell in safety_.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIII.\n\nFOUND AT LAST.\n\nSo profound was the slumber of the weary girl that she heard not the\nsound of opening the door, nor a step on the marble floor, and lay\nunconscious of the yearning, anxious, mournful gaze that was fixed upon\nher she slept.\n\n\"Lovely, most lovely--fairer even than her mother!\" murmured Pollux, as\nhe stood beside the couch of Zarah, upon whose slumbering form softly\nfell the light from a silver lamp.  \"Even so beautiful and so pure lay\nmy Naomi, when the angel of death had in mercy called her soul away,\nand bereft me of a gift of which I was so unworthy.\"\n\nWhat bitter memories of early years passed through the renegade's soul\nas he spoke!  Happy days, when there was no shame on the brow, no\ngnawing worm in the conscience--when he had feared the face of no man,\nand had dared to lift his eyes towards heaven, and his heart to One who\ndwelt there!  Blessed days, never, never to come again!\n\n\"Hark! she speaks in her sleep.  What says she?\"\n\nPollux bent down his head to listen, and caught the faint murmur, \"My\npoor, poor father!\"\n\nThe groan which burst from the apostate's lips awoke the sleeper.\nZarah started into a sitting posture, and, with a gesture of alarm,\nthrew back the long tresses which had partly fallen over her face.\n\n\"Fear not, poor child; I would not harm you,\" said Pollux, in a gentle,\nsoothing tone, which restored Zarah's confidence at once.\n\n\"Oh no!  I will not fear you!\" she cried, recognizing her protector;\n\"it was you--the God of Jacob requite you for it!--it was you who saved\nme to-day.\"\n\n\"And will do so again,\" said Pollux, as he seated himself at Zarah's\nside; \"but I cannot save you in spite of yourself.  You must let\nyourself be guided by me.\"\n\n\"What would you have me do?\" asked Zarah.\n\n\"Bend to the force of circumstances, humour the mighty king, give an\noutward obedience to his will.  I have pledged myself that you should\ndo so.  There is nothing so dreadful, after all,\" continued the\ncourtier, forcing a smile, \"in bowing the knee as others do, or in\nburning a few grains of incense.  It is but a little matter.\"\n\n\"A little matter!\" repeated Zarah, opening wide her eyes in innocent\nsurprise; \"is it a little matter for me to throw away my soul, and\nbreak the heart of Hadassah?\"\n\nPollux winced on hearing the name, but quickly recovering himself,\nobserved, \"The heart of no woman would be thus broken.  She would feel\na pang less keen at your falling away for a time, than that which would\nwring her soul should you die by the executioner's hand.\"\n\n\"You have never seen Hadassah; you do not know her!\" exclaimed Zarah\nwith spirit; \"she has told me herself that she would rather lose seven\nchildren by death than one by apostasy from God!\"\n\nPollux bit his nether lip till the blood came.  When he resumed\nspeaking, his voice sounded hoarse and strange.\n\n\"If you care not for your own danger, maiden, think of my peril; my\nhead is staked upon your submission,\" he said.\n\nZarah looked distressed and perplexed for a moment, then her fair face\nbrightened again.  \"Even cruel Antiochus,\" she replied, \"would never\nslay one of his nobles because he failed in persuading a Hebrew girl to\nviolate conscience.  You are not--cannot be in peril through me.\"\n\n\"I am, whether you believe it or not,\" said the courtier.  \"But\nmethinks, when speaking to a girl like yourself in the morning of life,\nwith so much that might make existence delightful\"--Pollux glanced at\nthe luxurious decorations of the apartment--\"one might be supposed to\nneed small power of persuasion to convince her that music, dance, and\nfeasting are better than torture; life than death; nature's sunshine\nand earth's love than a nameless grave.  The king is munificent to\nthose who oppose not his will; his hand is bounteous and open.  Listen\nto me, fair maiden.  Antiochus has promised, if you yield to his\ncommands, to give you in marriage; it shall be my care that his choice\nfor you shall fall upon one gentle and noble, one who will not deal\nharshly with you if you choose to follow your own religion, but who\nwill accord to you in the privacy of your home all the freedom of\nworship which you could desire.\"  Pollux paused, turning over in his\nmind who would be the noble most likely to fulfil these conditions; and\nthinking aloud, he uttered the words, \"such a one as Lycidas the\nAthenian.\"\n\nHow the heart of Zarah bounded at the name!  The temptation was\nfearfully strong.  She beheld life and Lycidas on the one hand; on the\nother the cold steel and the glowing flame, and those black fearful\nministers of death, the remembrance of whom made her shudder.\n\nPollux, skilful in the courtier's art of reading the thoughts of men,\nsaw symptoms of yielding in the face of his prisoner, and pushed his\nadvantage.  He had appealed to Zarah's instincts, now he attempted to\ndazzle and pervert her reason.  With subtle sophistry he brought\nforward arguments with which his mind was but too familiar.  Pollux\nspoke of necessity, that artful plea of the tempter, who would try to\nmake the Deity Himself answerable for the sin of His creatures, as\nhaving placed them under circumstances where such sin could not be\navoided; as if strength of temptation were excuse sufficient for\nyielding to the temptation!  Then the courtier spoke of the difference\nbetween spiritual worship, the assent of the soul to a lofty creed, and\nthe mere outward posture of the body.  The latter might bow down in the\nhouse of Rimmon, Pollux argued, while the spirit retained its\nallegiance to the only true God.  Nay, the tempter quoted Scripture (as\nthe devil himself can quote it) to show that what God demands is the\nheart, and that therefore He cares little for the homage of the knee.\nThe courtier tried to involve the artless girl in the meshes of his\nfalse philosophy, but a woman's simple faith and love burst through\nthem all.\n\n\"Leave me--leave me!\" cried Zarah passionately, at the first pause made\nby Pollux; \"it is sinful, cruel, to tempt me thus!  You would have\ntried to persuade the three children in Babylon to bow down to the\nimage of gold!  I cannot argue, I cannot reason with one so learned as\nyou are, but I know that it is written in God's Law, _Thou shalt not\nbow down nor worship_, and that is enough for me.\"\n\n\"But you never can endure the agonies which await you if you madly hold\nout in your obstinate resistance!\" cried Pollux.\n\n\"I know that I have no strength of my own; I know that I am a\ntrembling, feeble, cowardly girl, weak as water!\" exclaimed Zarah,\nbursting into tears; \"but God--my God--once made a firm wall of water,\nand He who sends the trial will send the strength to endure it!\"\n\n\"Zarah, you will drive me to madness!\" exclaimed Pollux, alarmed at the\nconstancy shown by so timid and fragile a being; \"nay, turn not away, I\n_will_ be heard!  I command you to yield obedience to the king, and I\nhave a right to command; Zarah, he who speaks to you is--your father!\"\n\nHad not instinct suggested that before, had there not been something in\nthe voice, the face of the courtier of Epiphanes which had reminded\nZarah of Hadassah, and had strangely drawn the maiden's heart towards\nhim?  Up sprang Abner's daughter with a cry, her arms were around his\nneck, her head was pillowed on his bosom, his vest was wet with her\ntears; she sobbed forth, \"My father! my father!\" forgetting for the\nmoment everything else in the delight of having found the lost one at\nlast, and of being locked in the embrace of a parent.\n\nAnd Pollux, for a brief space, could think of nothing but the fact that\nhis child was clasped in his arms.  He drew her close to his heart,\nthen held her back that he might gaze upon her face, and press kiss\nafter kiss on the lips of her whom he called his darling, his pride,\nhis beautiful child!  But when the first burst of natural emotion was\nover, Pollux made his daughter sit close beside him, and with his arm\nround her slight form, resumed the conversation which had been\ninterrupted by his revealing the intimate relationship in which they\nstood to each other.\n\n\"You see, my child,\" said the courtier, \"that you may now yield with an\neasy conscience.  A parent's commands are law to a Hebrew maiden; if\nthere be any sin in what you do, it lies upon me alone.\"\n\n\"And think you that I would bring sin upon your head?\" said Zarah.  \"Oh\nno, that would be to wrong a parent indeed!\"\n\n\"I have such a burden of my own to carry,\" observed Pollux, bitterly,\n\"that I shall scarcely be sensible of so small an addition to its\nweight.  Zarah, it is clearly your duty to submit, for my safety is\ninvolved in your submission.  If you refuse to obey Antiochus, you seal\nthe doom of your father.\"\n\nIn anguish Zarah clasped her throbbing temples with both her hands;\neven the path of duty itself seemed dark and uncertain before her.\nThen a thought, sudden and bright, as if it were an inspiration, came\ninto the young girl's mind.\n\n\"Oh no, I will save my father!\" she exclaimed; \"save him from worse\nthan death!  Let us fly together at once,\" she continued; \"no, not\ntogether, I would cumber your flight; but make your escape, O my\nfather, from this wicked court, this barbarous king, this life which,\nto a son of Hadassah, must be misery and bondage indeed!  Oh, fly, fly;\nbe safe, be free; be again what you were once! it is not too late! it\nis not too late!\"  There was intense delight to Zarah in the new-born\nhope that she might draw her wretched parent from this den of infamy,\nthis pit of destruction.\n\nPollux was startled by the sudden suggestion.  \"Whither could I fly?\"\nasked the renegade gloomily.\n\n\"To Judas Maccabeus, our hero,\" cried Zarah; \"his camp is the\nrallying-place for all fugitives from oppression.\"\n\n\"Maccabeus!\" exclaimed Pollux; \"he would loathe--would spurn an\napostate!\"\n\n\"Oh no, he would never spurn the father of Zarah,\" cried the maiden,\nfor once realizing and exulting in the secret power which she exercised\nover the leader of the Hebrews; \"Judas would welcome you, his brave\ncompanions would welcome, coming as you would come to redeem the past\nby devoting your sword to your country!  God would receive you; and\nHadassah,\" continued Zarah, her enthusiasm kindling into rapture as she\nwent on, \"Hadassah, in her joy, her ecstasy, would forget all her\ngrief--the thought of her long-lost son being with Maccabeus would\nenable her almost to rejoice at her Zarah being--with God.\"\n\n\"Impossible, impossible,\" muttered Pollux, rising from his seat as if\nto depart; but Zarah detected indecision in his tone.  She threw\nherself at his feet, she clasped his knees, she pleaded with passionate\nfervour, for she deemed that a parent's life and soul were at stake.\n\n\"Oh, father, if you would but consent to leave for ever this horrible,\nhorrible place, to return to your people, your mother, your God, I feel\nas if I could die happy, so happy; we should then meet again in a\nbrighter world, all, all re-united, and for ever!\"\n\nIt was as the voice of his guardian angel--as if his once fondly-loved\nwife had been suffered to visit Abner in mortal form, to counsel, warn,\nentreat; to tell him that there yet might be mercy for him if he would\nbut turn and repent!  There was a terrific struggle in the renegade's\nmind.  He could not at once decide on taking so bold and sudden a leap\nas that to which he was urged, though conscious of the peril as well as\nmisery of his present position at the court.  As the deer, driven by\nwolves to the precipice's brink, hesitates on making the plunge\ndown--though it give him the only chance of escape from the ravening\njaws of his fierce pursuers--so hesitated the wretched Pollux.\n\nHe would have felt no indecision had he known that, at the very time\nwhen Zarah was pleading in tears at his feet, Antiochus was signing, in\nthe presence of the exulting Lysimachus, a warrant for the execution of\nPollux on the morrow.  His rival had succeeded in working his ruin; the\nonly door of safety yet open to the apostate was that towards which his\nchild, with fervent entreaties, was trying to draw him; shortly--little\ndreamed Pollux how shortly--that door of safety would be closed.\nUnable to form a sudden resolution, to come to a prompt decision,\nseeing difficulties and dangers on every side, fearing to remain where\nhe was, yet afraid to fly, Pollux wasted the precious time yet given\nhim, he let the golden moments escape.  In a state of strong\nexcitement, he at length quitted his daughter's presence, to seek that\nsolitude in which his perturbed mind might become sufficiently calm to\nform a judgment which must be as the pivot upon which his whole future\nlife would turn.  Pollux left Zarah still on her knees, nor did she\nrise when he had torn himself from her clinging arms and left the\napartment.  When the daughter could no longer plead with, she pleaded\nfor, her father--she implored that grace and wisdom might be given to\nhim at this momentous crisis.  There was no more sleep for Zarah on\nthat eventful night.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIV.\n\nDECISION.\n\nTossed backwards and forwards on a wild sea of doubt--a vessel without\nballast, compass, or rudder--was the mind of the miserable Pollux.  The\ncourtier paced for hours up and down a verandah where the cool breeze\nof heaven could fan him, and where he would be secure from\ninterruption.  Ever and anon Pollux tore his beard, or smote his\nbreast; unconsciously giving expression by outward gesture to the\ninward torture which he felt.  Was he to give up all at once--all for\nwhich he had bartered his soul, rank, wealth, position--to begin life\nagain on the lowest round of the ladder, with the brand of disgrace,\nthe burden of shame upon him?  Could he endure to appear in the\npresence of Maccabeus, to sue from him the place of hewer of wood and\ndrawer of water; to exchange the pride of power and pomp of wealth for\nhardship and want, poverty and peril?  Pollux felt that he could not\nbring his pride to submit to the degradation, or his worldliness to the\nloss.  The leap to be taken was from such a height, and into such an\nabyss, that it seemed as if he must be dashed in pieces by the fall.\n\nBut what was the alternative, if the dreaded leap were not taken?  If\nZarah remained firm in the faith, she must die;--could the father\nendure to witness the martyrdom of his beautiful child?  And his own\nlife--was it not in danger?  Was not instant flight from court the only\nmeans of affording a chance of safety either to parent or daughter? was\nit not the only means of delivering an apostate from the execrations of\nhis countrymen, the curse of his mother, the impending vengeance of the\nMost High!  Conscience would no longer be silenced--Zarah had aroused\nthe sleeper; beside the faith and purity of his own child, Pollux had\nregarded himself almost as a demon!\n\nAnd Zarah had awakened not only conscience, but hope.  She had clung to\nthe apostate with tenderness, not shrunk back from him with horror.\nShe had not, then, been taught to regard her parent as one who had\nforfeited all claim to her affection.  Zarah had spoken of the\npossibility of his yet giving joy to the lofty-souled mother whom\nPollux, in the midst of his guilt, had not ceased to reverence and\nlove.  For many years the apostate had tried to drive from his mind all\nthought of Hadassah; now her image came vividly before him, not in the\nattitude of uttering a malediction, but as holding out her arms to\nreceive back her prodigal son.\n\nWhile Pollux was deliberating, and Zarah praying, Lysimachus was\ncarousing amidst boon companions in the city.  The ruin and approaching\nexecution of his rival gave unwonted zest to the revels of the\nprofligate Syrian.\n\n\"Here's to our friend the magnificent Pollux!\" exclaimed Lysimachus,\nraising on high a huge goblet of wine.  \"He is going on a long journey\nto-morrow; here's to his quick passage over Styx, and welcome at the\nshadowy court of King Pluto!\"\n\nAnd those who listened were not ashamed to laugh at the jest, or to\ndrink the toast, though they had mixed in familiar intercourse with\nPollux, flattered and followed him, when he had basked in the sunshine\nof royal favour.  One of the guests was calculating how he should now\nget possession of some coveted gem which he had seen sparkling on the\ngirdle of the man to whom he had once sworn unalterable friendship;\nanother fixed on the Arab steed of the ruined courtier as his share of\nthe spoils.  There was not one of the sycophants met together at that\nnight-revel who had a word of warning or a thought of pity to give to\nhim who had been the most admired, envied, and flattered of all the\nnobles who composed the brilliant court of Antiochus Epiphanes!\n\nStars were paling, the night was waning, the door of safety was slowly,\nimperceptibly closing--soon, soon the decision of Pollux, if made,\nwould be made too late!  When once the course of duty is clear to the\nmind, perilous is every minute of delay: while we hesitate, the enemy\nsteals on; while we doubt, we may find ourselves under his fangs!\n\n\"Zarah shall decide for me!\" exclaimed the unhappy waverer at last.\n\"If I find her resolution immovable, come what may, I will give my\nchild one chance of escape from the horrible fate with which she is\nthreatened.\"\n\nIn a few minutes, pale and haggard from his contending emotions, Pollux\nre-entered the apartment in which he had left his daughter.\n\n\"Zarah!\" he cried, in a hollow tone, as he grasped the maiden by the\nwrist, and scanned her countenance with an almost despairing gaze, \"I\ncome to ask what is your final decision.  Are you still insane enough\nto choose tortures and death?\"\n\nZarah looked her father full in the face; she pale, but she blenched\nnot.  In a calm, unhesitating voice she replied, \"I will never deny my\nfaith.\"\n\n\"Then the die is cast!\" exclaimed Pollux, almost relieved by being at\nleast freed from the misery of indecision.  \"We live or perish\ntogether!--we will make our escape before daybreak.\"\n\nThere was little time left for words--none to express the thankful joy\nwhich swelled the heart of Zarah.  She was rescuing her father from\ndishonour and guilt; she was giving him back to his country.\n\n\"Put on this dress of a Syrian slave-girl, which I have brought for\nyou,\" said Pollux.  \"Take up yon empty water-jar; it must appear as if\nyou went to fill it at the tank.  We cannot keep close together; that\nwould awaken suspicion.  We shall have guards to pass, and possibly\nother persons besides, though at this very early hour even slaves will\nscarcely have commenced their morning toils.\"\n\n\"How shall I find my way, father?\" inquired Zarah; \"this vast palace is\nas a labyrinth to me.\"\n\n\"You must never quite lose sight of me,\" Pollux replied; \"though\nfollowing at a sufficient distance to prevent its appearing that your\nmovements are guided by mine.  But no, that plan will not answer,\" he\ncontinued, pressing his forehead with his hand; \"I should not then have\nyou in view, and, should you be challenged, I should be unable to come\nto your help.  You, my child, must go first.\"\n\n\"Oh, my father, my presence will fearfully increase your danger!\" cried\nZarah.  \"Leave me here, I implore, and make your escape alone.  No one\nwill challenge you.\"\n\nPollux silenced his daughter's expostulation with an impatient gesture\nof the hand.  \"Attend to my directions,\" he said; \"we have wasted too\nmuch time already.  You will follow me through the first court, and\nthen you will precede me.  Keep to the right till you pass the first\nsentries; then you will find yourself in a garden, in the centre of\nwhich is a tank.  Fill, or make show of filling, your jar.  Then the\nlong dark passage which, you will see on the left will conduct you to a\npostern gate of the palace; there will be a guard at that also.\"\n\n\"How shall I pass them?\" asked Zarah, who began to realize the\ndifficulties and perils of the undertaking before her.\n\n\"I know not; but God, whom you serve, will help you, my brave and\ninnocent child!  I will be following at no great distance--every\nsoldier or slave will know me--call me, and I will come to your aid.\"\n\n\"Father, give me your blessing,\" faltered Zarah.\n\n\"_My_ blessing!\" ejaculated Pollux, drawing back; \"does any one ask a\nblessing from a wretch from whom it would sear and blast more than a\ncurse from the lips of another!\"\n\n\"Oh, never say so!\" cried Zarah.  \"You doing now what is\ngenerous--noble--right!  You are casting in your lot with the people of\nGod; like Lot, you are turning your back upon Sodom.\"\n\n\"And you are the angel leading me thence,\" exclaimed Pollux.  \"Oh,\nZarah, Zarah, sainted child of a sainted woman, you who have been the\nfirst to cast a gleam of hope on the darkness of guilt and despair, if\never I find mercy from man or from God, if ever I look again on the\nface of my mother, if ever I escape the righteous doom of an apostate,\nit is owing to you!  Whatever be the result of our perilous enterprise\nto-night, remember that I thank you, I bless you--and you shall be\nblessed, O my daughter!\"  Pollux laid both his trembling hands on the\nhead of his kneeling child, and uttered for her the first prayer to the\ntrue God which the apostate had dared to utter for many guilty,\nmiserable years.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXV.\n\nA RETROSPECT.\n\nHadassah had, in the meantime, been enduring the martyrdom of the heart.\n\nWhen Zarah, under the escort of Abishai, left her home to attend the\ncelebration of the holy feast, Hadassah sent her soul with her, though\nfailing health chained back the aged lady's feeble body.  In thought,\nHadassah shared the memorial feast; in thought, partook of the\nsacrifice and joined in the hymns of praise.  Her mind dwelt on the\ncircumstances attending the celebration of the first Passover, when,\nwith loins girded and staff in hand, the fathers of Israel had taken\ntheir last meal in Egypt, before starting for the Promised Land.\n\n\"Is not this the _Promised Land_ still?\" thought Hadassah; \"though\nthose who are as the Canaanites of old now hold it--though unhallowed\nworship be offered on Mount Zion, and images be set up within the walls\nof Jerusalem.  Yea, it is to Israel the Promised Land, till _every_\nprophecy be fulfilled; till the King come to Zion, _lowly and riding on\nan ass_ (Zech. ix. 9); till--oh, most mysterious word!--the thirty\npieces of silver be weighed out as the price of the Lord and cast to\nthe potter (Zech. xi. 12, 18); till He shall speak peace to the\nheathen, and His dominion be from sea to sea, and from the river to the\nends of the earth (Zech.  ix.  10).  Faith looks backward on fulfilled\nprophecy with gratitude, on yet unfulfilled prophecy with hope.  Zion's\nbrightest days are to come.  Her Lord crowned her with glory in the\ndays of old; but in the days which will rise on her yet, He shall\nHimself be to her as a diadem of beauty!\" (Isa. xxviii. 5.)\n\nAbsorbed in such high contemplations, with hopes intensified by the\nvictories of Maccabeus--which seemed to her types and pledges of\ngreater triumphs to come--time did not pass wearily with Hadassah until\nthe hour arrived for Zarah's expected return.  Even the delay of that\nreturn did not at first seriously alarm Hadassah; circumstances might\nrender it safer for the maiden to linger at Salathiel's house; she\nmight even be pressed to remain there during the night, should Syrians\nbe lurking about in the paths amidst the hills.  Hadassah had so often\nattended meetings in the elder's dwelling, with or without her\ngrand-daughter, that habit had made her regard such attendance as less\nperilous than it was now to be proved to have been.\n\nBut Hadassah on this night could not retire to rest.  She could not\nclose her eyes in sleep until they had again looked upon her whom the\nHebrew lady fondly called her \"white dove.\"\n\nMidnight stole on, and Hadassah's heart, notwithstanding her courage\nand faith, became burdened with heavy anxiety.  She made Anna lie down\nand rest; while she herself, notwithstanding her state of\nindisposition, kept watch by the door.\n\nPresently her ear caught the sound of footsteps, hurried yet stealthy.\nHadassah heard danger in that sound, and opened the door without\nwaiting to know who came, or whether the steps would be arrested at her\nthreshold.  The light which the widow held in her hand fell on a\ncountenance ghastly with fear; she recognized the face of Salathiel,\nand knew before he uttered a word that he had come as the messenger of\ndisaster.\n\n\"The enemy came--we fled over the roofs--Abishai is slain--Zarah in the\nhands of the Syrians!\"\n\nSuch were the tidings which fell like a sentence of death on the ear of\nHadassah!  Salathiel could not wait to tell more; he must overtake his\nfamily and with them flee for his life; and he passed away again into\ndarkness, almost as swiftly as the lightning passes, but, like the\nlightning, leaving behind a token of where it has been in the tree\nwhich it has blasted!\n\nHadassah did not shriek, nor sink, nor swoon, but she felt as one who\nhas received a death-blow.  She stood repeating over and over to\nherself the latter part of Salathiel's brief but fearful announcement,\nas if it were too terrible to be true.  Had Zarah been taken from her\nby natural cause, the Hebrew lady would have bowed her head like Job,\nand have blessed the name of the Lord in mournful submission; but the\nthought of Zarah in the hands of the Syrians caused an agony of grief\nmore like that of Jacob, when he gazed on the blood-stained garment of\nhis son and refused to be comforted.\n\nFor Hadassah loved the young maiden whom she had reared with the\nintensity of which a strong and fervent nature like hers perhaps alone\nis capable.  Zarah was all that was left to her grandmother in the\nworld, the sole relic remaining of the treasures which she once had\npossessed.  It may be permitted to me here, as a digression, to give a\nbrief account of Hadassah's former life, that the reader may better\nunderstand her position at the point reached in my story.\n\nFew women had appeared to enjoy a brighter lot than Hadassah, when\nbeautiful, gifted, and beloved, a happy wife, a rejoicing mother, she\nhad dwelt near Bethsura in Idumea, the possessor of more than\ncompetence, and the dispenser of benefits to many around her.  Hadassah\nhad in her youthful days an ambitious spirit, a somewhat haughty\ntemper, and a love of command, which had to a certain degree marred the\nbeauty of a character which was essentially noble.\n\nGrief soon came, however, to humble the spirit and to soften the\ntemper.  Hadassah was early left a widow, and heavily the grief of\nbereavement fell upon one whose love had been passionate and deep.  Two\nchildren, however--a daughter and son--remained to console her.  Around\nthese, and especially her boy, the affections of Hadassah clung but too\nclosely.  Abner was almost idolized by his mother.  If ambition\nremained in her heart, it was ambition for him.  He was her pride, her\ndelight, the object of her fondest hopes; Abner's very faults seemed\nalmost to become graces, viewed through the medium of Hadassah's\nintense love.\n\nMany years now flowed on, with little to disturb their even tenor.\nMiriam, the only daughter of Hadassah, was married to Abishai; Abner\nwas united to a fair maiden whom his mother could receive love as a\ndaughter indeed.\n\nThe Hebrew widow lived her early days over again in her children, and\nlife was sweet to her still.\n\nThen came blow upon blow in fearful succession, each inflicting a deep\nwound on the heart of Hadassah.  Both the young wives were taken in the\nprime of their days, within a few weeks of each other--Miriam dying\nchildless, Naomi leaving but one little daughter behind.  But the\nheaviest, most crushing stroke was to come!\n\nWhen Seleucus, King of Pergamos, with the concurrence of the Romans,\nhad placed Antiochus on the throne of Syria, the new monarch had\nspeedily shown himself an active enemy of the faith held by his\nsubjects in Judaea.  Onias, their venerable High Priest, was deposed,\nand the traitor Jason raised to hold an office which he disgraced.  A\ngymnasium was built by him in Jerusalem; reverence for Mosaic rites was\ndiscouraged.  Both by his example and his active exertions, Jason, the\nunworthy successor of Aaron, sought to obliterate the distinction\nbetween Jew and Gentile, and bring all to one uniformity of worldliness\nand irreligion.  In the words of the historian:[1] \"The example of a\nperson in his commanding position drew forth and gave full scope to the\nmore lax dispositions which existed among the people, especially among\nthe younger class, who were enchanted with the ease and freedom of the\nGrecian customs, and weary of the restraints and limitations of their\nown.  Such as these abandoned themselves with all the frenzy of a new\nexcitement, from which all restraint had been withdrawn, to the license\nwhich was offered to them.  The exercises of the gymnasium seem to have\ntaken their minds with the force of fascination.\"\n\nTo temptations such as these, a disposition like that of Abner was\npeculiarly accessible.  His religion had never been the religion of the\nheart; his patriotism was cold, he prided himself upon being a citizen\nof the world.  Unhappily, after the death of his wife, Abner had become\nweary of Bethsura, and had gone up to Jerusalem to divert his mind from\npainful associations.  He there came under the influence of Jason, and\nplunged into amusement in a too successful effort to divert his mind\nfrom sorrow.\n\nAmbition soon added its powerful lure to that of pleasure.  Abner met\nthe newly-made king shortly after his accession, and at once attracted\nthe attention and won the favour of the monarch.  There was nothing but\nthe Hebrew's faith between him and the highest distinctions which a\nroyal friend could bestow.  Abner yielded to the brilliant temptation;\nhe parted with his religion (more than nominal it never had been),\nchanged his name to that of Pollux, abandoned all his former friends\nand pursuits, and attached himself entirely to the Syrian court, then\nusually residing at Antioch.\n\nAbner, or, as we have called him, Pollux, dared not face his mother\nafter he had turned his back upon all which she had taught him to\nrevere.  The apostate never went near Bethsura again; he kept far away\nfrom the place where he had passed his innocent childhood, the place\nwhere slept the relics of his young Jewish wife.  Abner wrote to\nHadassah to inform her of what he termed the change in his opinions;\ntold her that he had given up an antiquated faith, commended his little\ndaughter to her care, and asked her to forget that she herself had ever\ngiven birth to a son.\n\nHadassah, after receiving this epistle, lay for weeks at the point of\ndeath, and fears were at first entertained for her reason.  She arose\nat last from her sick-bed a changed, almost broken-hearted woman.  As\nsoon as it was possible for her to travel, the widow left Bethsura for\never.  She could not endure the sight of aught to remind her of happier\ndays; she could not bear to meet any one who might speak to her of her\nson.  Hadassah's first object was to seek out Abner, and, with all the\npersuasions which a mother could use, to try to draw him back from a\ncourse which must end in eternal destruction.  But Abner was not to be\nfound in Jerusalem, nor in any part of the country around it.  He had\ncarefully concealed from his mother his new name--the Hebrew was lost\nin the Syrian--Abner was dead indeed to his family and to his\ncountry--and to Hadassah the courtier Pollux was utterly a stranger.\n\nIt was long, very long, before Hadassah gave up her search for Abner,\nand she never gave up either her love or her hope for her son.\nAffection with her was like the vein in the marble, a part of itself,\nwhich nought can wash out or remove.  There was scarcely a waking hour\nin which the mother did not pray for her wanderer; he was often present\nto her mind in dreams.  And the character of Hadassah was elevated and\npurified by the grief which she silently endured.  The dross of\nambition and pride was burned away in the furnace of affliction; the\nimpetuous high-spirited woman refined into the saint.  Exquisitely\nbeautiful is the remark made by a gifted writer:[2] \"Everything of\nmoment which befalls us in this life, which occasions us some great\nsorrow for which in this life we see not the uses, has nevertheless its\ndefinite object....  It may seem but a barren grief in the history of a\nlife, it may prove a fruitful joy in the history of a soul.\"\n\nHadassah's intense, undying affection for her unworthy son, led her to\nregard with peculiar affection the child whom he had left to her care.\nShe loved Zarah both for his sake and her own.  Zarah was the one\nflower left in the desert over which the simoom had swept; her smile\nwas to the bereaved mother as the bright smile of hope.  Hadassah, as\nshe watched the opening virtues of Abner's daughter, could not, would\nnot believe that the parent of Zarah could ever be finally lost.  God\nwould surely hear a mother's prayers, and save Abner from the fate of\nan apostate.  All that Hadassah asked of Heaven was to see her son once\nagain in the path of duty, and then she would die happy.  The love for\nAbner which still lived in the widow's bosom, was like the unseen fires\nthat glow unseen beneath the surface of the earth, only known by the\nwarmth of the springs that gush up into light.  Even as those springs\nwas the love of the widow for Abner's daughter.\n\n\n\n[1] Dr. Kitto.\n\n[2] Lord Lytton.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVI.\n\nWEARY WANDERINGS.\n\nHadassah had believed years previously that she had suffered to the\nextreme limits of human endurance--that there were no deeper depths of\nmisery to which she could descend; but the news brought on that fatal\nnight by Salathiel showed her that she had been mistaken.  The idea of\nher Zarah, her tender loving Zarah, in the hands of the Syrians,\nbrought almost intolerable woe.  So carefully had the maiden been\nnurtured, watched over, shielded from every wrong, like an unfledged\nbird that has always been kept under the warm, soft, protecting wing,\nthat the utter defencelessness of her present position struck Hadassah\nwith terror.\n\nAnd how--the widow could not help asking herself--how could one so\ntimid and sensitive stand the test of persecution from which the\nboldest might shrink?  Zarah would weep at a tale of suffering, turn\nfaint at the sight of blood.  She was not any means courageous, and her\nyoung cousins, Solomona's sons, had been wont to make mirth of her\nterror when a centipede had once been found nestling under a cushion\nnear her.  Could such a soft silken thread bear the strain of a blast\nwhich might snap the strongest cable?  Hadassah trembled for her\ndarling, and would willingly have consented to bear any torture, to\nhave been able to exchange places with one so little fitted, as she\nthought, to endure.  Sorely tried was the faith of the Hebrew lady; how\nlittle could she imagine that the prayers of many years were being\nanswered by means of the very misfortune which was rending the cords of\nher heart.\n\nIn the misery of her soul, all Hadassah's physical weakness and pain\nseemed forgotten.  Before morning she had dragged her feeble steps to\nthe gate of the prison which held her child, with the faithful Anna for\nher only attendant.  In vain Hadassah implored for admission; in vain\noffered to share the captivity of Zarah, if she might be but permitted\nto see her.  She was driven away by the guards, with insolent taunts,\nonly to return again and again, like a bird to its plundered nest!  But\nno complaining word, no murmuring against the decree of Him who had\nappointed her sore trial, was heard from Hadassah; only that sublime\nexpression of unshaken faith, _Though He slay me, yet will I trust in\nHim_.\n\nThen the widow thought of Lycidas the Greek.  She had a claim upon his\ngratitude, and she knew that Zarah had a place in his affections.  With\nhis wealth, his talent, his eloquence, might he not help to save her\nchild?\n\n\"Anna,\" said Hadassah to her handmaid, \"could we but find the Greek\nstranger, he might afford us aid and advice in this our sore need.  But\nI know not where he abides.\"\n\n\"Joab would know,\" observed the Jewess, \"and I know the quarter of the\ntown in which he dwells with his mother's sister, Hephzibah; for I have\ndealt with her for olives and melons.  But, lady, you are weary, the\nheat of the sun is now great; seek some place of shelter and rest while\nI go in search of Joab.\"\n\n\"There is no rest for me till I find my Zarah; and what care I for\nshelter when she has but that of a prison!\" cried Hadassah.\n\nThe two women then proceeded on their quest to a quarter of Jerusalem\ninhabited only by the poorest of the people.  Simple as were the\ngarments worn by the widow lady, she carried with her so unmistakably\nthe stamp of a person of distinction, that her appearance there excited\nsurprise amongst the half-clad, half-starved children that stared at\nher as she passed along.  The street was so narrow that the women,\nmeeting a loaded camel in it, had to stand close to the wall on one\nside, to suffer the unwieldy beast to pass on the other.  Hungry lean\ndogs were growling over well-picked bones cast forth in the way, evil\nodours rendered the stifling air more oppressive.  But Hadassah went\nforward as if insensible of any outward annoyance.\n\nHephzibah, a miserable-looking old woman, with eyes disfigured and half\nblinded by ophthalmia, was standing in her doorway, throwing forth the\nrefuse of vegetables, in which she dealt.  Anna had frequently seen her\nbefore, and no introduction was needed.\n\n\"Where is Joab?\" asked the handmaid, at the bidding of Hadassah.\n\nThe old crone through her bleared eyes peered curiously at the lady, as\nshe replied to the maid, \"Joab has gone forth, as he always goes at\ncockcrow, to lade his mule with leeks, and melons, and other vegetables\nand fruits.  He will not be back till night-fall.\"\n\nHadassah pressed her burning brow in thought, and then herself\naddressed the old woman.\n\n\"Have you heard from Joab where dwells a week--an Athenian--Lycidas is\nhis name?\"\n\n\"Lycidas? no; there be none of that name in our quarters,\" was the\nslowly mumbled reply.\n\n\"Has Joab never spoken to you of a stranger, very goodly in person and\ngraceful in mien?\" persisted Hadassah, grasping at the hope that the\nsingular beauty of Lycidas might make it less difficult to trace him.\n\nHephzibah shook her head, and showed her few remaining teeth in a grin.\n\"Were he goodly as David, I should hear and care nothing about it,\"\nsaid she.\n\n\"The stranger has a very open hand, he gives freely,\" observed Anna.\nThe words had an instant effect in improving the memory of the old\nJewess.\n\n\"Ay, ay,\" she said, brightening up; \"I mind me of a stranger who gave\nJoab gold when another would have given him silver.  He! he! he!  Our\nmule is as strong a beast as any in the city, but it never brought us\nsuch a day's hire before.\"\n\n\"When was that?\" asked Hadassah.\n\n\"Two days since, when Joab had taken the youth to his home.\"\n\n\"Can you tell me where that home is?\" inquired Hadassah with eagerness.\n\n\"Wait--let me think,\" mumbled Hephzibah.\n\nHadassah thrust a coin into the hand of seller of fruit.  Hephzibah\nturned it round and round, looking at it as if she thought that the\nexamination of the money would help her in giving her answer.  It came\nat last, but slowly: \"Ay, I mind me that Joab said that he took the\nstranger to the large house, with a court, on the left side of the west\ngate, which Apollonius\" (she muttered a curse) \"broke down.\"\n\nThis was clue sufficient; and thankful at having gained one, Hadassah\nwith her attendant left the stifling precincts of Hephzibah's dwelling\nto find out that of the Greek.  Terrible were the glare and heat of the\nnoonday sun, and long appeared the distance to be traversed, yet\nHadassah did not even slacken her steps till she approached the\ngymnasium erected by the renegade high-priest Jason.  With difficulty\nshe made her way through crowds of Syrians and others hastening to the\nplace of amusement.\n\nHadassah groaned, but it was not from weariness; she turned away her\neyes from the building which had been to so many of her people as the\ngate of perdition, and the merry voices of the pleasure-seekers sounded\nsadder to her ears than a wail uttered over the dead.  Precious souls\nhad been murdered in that gymnasium; the Hebrew mother thought of her\nown lost son!\n\nAlmost dropping from fatigue, Hadassah reached at last the place which\nHephzibah had described.  It was an inn of the better sort, kept by an\nAthenian named Cimon, who had established himself in Jerusalem.\nHadassah had no difficulty in obtaining an interview with the host, who\nreceived her with the courtesy befitting a citizen of one of the most\npolished cities then to be found in the world.  Cimon offered the lady\na seat under the shadow of the massive gateway leading into his\ncourtyard.\n\n\"Dwells the Lord Lycidas here?\" asked Hadassah faintly.  She could\nhardly speak; her tongue seemed to cleave to the roof of her mouth from\nheat, fatigue, and excitement.\n\n\"The Lord Lycidas left this place yesterday lady,\" said the Greek.\n\n\"Whither has he gone?\" gasped Hadassah.\n\n\"I know not--he told me not whither,\" answered Cimon, surveying his\nquestioner with compassion and curiosity.  \"Months have elapsed since\nthe Athenian lord, after honouring this roof by his sojourn under it,\nsuddenly disappeared.  Search was made for him in vain.  I feared that\nevil had happened to my guest, and as time rolled on and brought no\ntidings, I sent word to his friends in Athens, asking what should be\ndone with property left under my charge by him who, as I deemed, had\nmet an untimely end.  Ere the answer arrived, the Lord Lycidas himself\nappeared at my door, but in evil plight, weak in body and troubled in\nmind.  He would give no account of the past; he said not where he had\nsojourned; and yester-morn, though scarcely strong enough to keep the\nsaddle, he mounted his horse, and rode off--I know not whither; nor\nsaid he when he would return.  If the lady be a friend of the Lord\nLycidas,\" continued the Athenian, whose curiosity was strongly excited,\n\"perhaps she may favour me by throwing light upon the mystery which\nattends his movements.\"\n\nBut Hadassah had come to gain information, not to impart it.  \"I cannot\nlinger here,\" she said, \"but if Lycidas return tell him, I earnestly\ncharge you, that the child of one who nursed him in sickness is now the\nprisoner of the Syrian king!\"\n\nGrievously disappointed and disheartened by her failure, Hadassah then\nturned away from the dwelling of the Greek.\n\n\"Oh, lady, rest, or you will sink from fatigue!\" cried Anna, whose own\nsturdy frame was suffering from the effect of efforts of half of which,\na day before, she would have dreamed her mistress utterly incapable.\n\nHadassah made no reply; she sank rather than seated herself under the\nnarrow strip of shade afforded by a dead wall.  The lady covered her\nface; Anna knew from the slight movement of her bowed head that\nHadassah was praying.\n\nPresently the Hebrew lady raised her head; she was deadly pale, but\ncalm.\n\n\"I cannot stay here,\" she murmured.  \"I must know the fate of my child.\nAnna, let us return to the prison.\"  Even with the aid of her handmaid,\nthe lady was scarcely able to rise.\n\nThe twain reached the gate of the prison.  A group of Syrian guards\nkept watch there.  The appearance of the venerable sufferer, bowed down\nunder such a weight of affliction, moved one of the soldiers to pity.\n\n\"You come on a fruitless errand, lady,\" he said, \"the maiden whom you\nseek is not here.\"\n\n\"Dead?\" faintly gasped forth Hadassah.\n\n\"No, no; not dead,\" answered the Syrian promptly.  \"I know not all that\nhas happened, but the young girl was certainly brought before the king.\"\n\n\"Before him who murdered Solomona and her boys--the ruthless fiend!\"\nwas the scathing thought that passed through the brain of Hadassah.\n\"And what followed?\" she asked with her eyes, for her lips could not\nframe the question.\n\n\"Belikes the king thought it shame to kill such a pretty bird, so kept\nit to make music for him in his gardens of joy,\" said the guard.  \"All\nthat I can say is, that the maiden was not sent back to prison, but\nremains in the palace.\"\n\n\"The palace!\" ejaculated Hadassah; more distressed than reassured by\nsuch information.\n\n\"Of course,\" cried another soldier, with a brutal jest; \"the girl was\nnot going to commit the folly of dying for her superstitions like a\nbigoted fanatic old woman, with no more sense than the staff she leans\non!  Of course, the maid did what any woman in her senses would\ndo,--worshipped whatever the king bade her worship, the Muses, the\nGraces, or the Furies.  Converts are easily made at her age, with all\nkinds of torments on the one side, all kinds of delights on the other.\"\n\nHadassah turned slowly away from the spot.  Could the soldier's words\nbe true? had Zarah forsworn her faith as her father had done, though\nunder circumstances so different?\n\n\"Oh!  God will forgive her--He will forgive my poor lost child, if she\nhave failed under such an awful trial!\" murmured the Hebrew lady,\npressing her hand to her side, as if to keep her heart from bursting.\nBut Hadassah was by no means sure that Zarah's resolution had indeed\ngiven way.  She determined at all events and at any hazard to see the\nmaiden; and, collecting all her strength, proceded at once to the\npalace.  The unhappy lady ought have guessed beforehand that it would\nbe a hopeless attempt to gain admittance into that magnificent abode of\nluxury, cruelty, and crime.  The guards only mocked at her prayer to be\npermitted to see the captive Hebrew maiden.\n\n\"Then I must speak to the king himself!\" cried Hadassah.  \"I will watch\ntill he leave the gate.\"\n\n\"The king goes not forth to-day,\" said a Syrian noble who was quitting\nthe palace, and who was struck by the earnestness of the aged widow,\nand, the anguish depicted on her noble features.  \"But Antiochus rides\nforth to-morrow, soon after sunrise.\"\n\n\"Then,\" thought Hadassah, \"daybreak shall find me here.  I will cling\nto the stirrup of Antiochus.  I will constrain the tyrant to listen.\nGod will inspire my lips with eloquence.  He will touch the heart of\nthe king.  I may yet persuade the tyrant to accept one life instead of\nanother.  Oh! my Zarah, child of my heart, it were bliss to suffer for\nyou!\"\n\nClinging to this last forlorn hope, Hadassah allowed herself at last to\nbe persuaded by Anna to seek the residence of a Hebrew family, with\nwhom she was slightly acquainted; there to partake of a little food,\nlie down and attempt to sleep.  Snatches of slumber came at last to the\nwidow, slumber filled with dreams.  Hadassah thought that she saw her\nson, her Abner, bright, joyous, and happy as he had been in his youth.\nThen the scene changed to own home.  Hadassah fancied that Zarah had\nunexpectedly returned; in delight she clasped the rescued maid to her\nheart, and then, to her astonishment, found that it was not Zarah, but\nZarah's father, whom she clasped in her arms!  It was strange that\ndreams of joy should come in the midst of so much anguish, so that a\nsmile should actually play on the grief-worn features of Hadassah.  Was\nsome good spirit whispering in her ear, \"While you are sleeping your\nson is praying.  Your supplications for him are answered at last?\"\n\nBut Hadassah lost little time in sleep.  While the stars yet gleamed in\nthe sky, the lady aroused Anna, who was slumbering heavily at her feet.\nThe handmaid arose, and without awakening the household, Hadassah and\nher attendant noiselessly quitted the hospitable dwelling which had\nafforded them shelter, and turned their steps again in the direction of\nthe stately palace of Antiochus Epiphanes.\n\nAs the two women traversed the silent, narrow, deserted streets, they\nsuddenly, at the angle formed by a transverse road, came upon a young\nman, whose rapid step indicated impatience or fear.  He was moving with\nsuch eager speed that he almost struck against Hadassah, before he\ncould arrest his quick movements.\n\n\"Ha!  Hadassah!\"\n\n\"Lycidas!  Heaven be praised!\" were the exclamations uttered in a\nbreath by the Greek and the Hebrew.\n\n\"Is it--can it be true--Zarah--captive--in peril?\" cried the young man,\nwhom the tidings of the attack on Salathiel's dwelling, and the capture\nof a maiden, had casually reached that night at Bethlehem, where he was\nsojourning, and whom these tidings had brought in all speed to\nJerusalem.  Lycidas had ridden first to the house of Cimon, where the\nmessage left by Hadassah had confirmed his worst fears.  Leaving his\nhorse, which had fallen lame on the rocky road, he had hurried off on\nfoot to the palace, with no definite plan of action before him, but\nresolved at any rate to seek an interview with the king.\n\n\"Zarah is prisoner in yon palace,\" said Hadassah, \"you will do all in\nyour power to save her?\"\n\n\"I would die for her!\" was the reply,\n\nHadassah in few words made known to the young Athenian her own\nintention to await at the palace gate the going forth of Antiochus, and\nplead with the Syrian king for the life and freedom of Zarah.  The lady\nwas thankful to accept the eager offer of Lycidas to remain beside her,\nand support her petition with the weight of any influence which he\nmight have with the tyrant, small as he judged that influence to be.\nHadassah, thankful at having found a zealous friend to aid her, leant\non the arm of Lycidas as she might have done on that of a son.\nDifference in nation and creed was for awhile forgotten; the two were\nunited by one great love and one great fear, and the Gentile could,\nwith the soul's deepest fervour, say \"Amen\" to the Hebrew's prayer.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVII.\n\nFLIGHT.\n\nIt was with a strange sense of happiness mingling with fear that Zarah\nfollowed her father out of the apartment which had been her place of\nconfinement.  The blessing of Abner lay so warm at the heart of his\ndaughter!  Zarah was no longer like one peering into depths of darkness\nto catch a glimpse of some terrible object below; she had discovered\nwhat she had sought, and by the cords of love was, as it were, drawing\nup a perishing parent into security and light.  It was rapture to Zarah\nto reflect on what would be the joy of Hadassah on the restoration of\nher son.  The maiden could rejoice in past perils, and, with a courage\nwhich surprised herself, confront those before her; so clearly could\nshe now perceive that her sufferings had been made a means of blessing\nto those whom she loved.\n\nWith a light, noiseless step, Zarah, obeying the directions of her\nnewly-found parent, and keeping his form in sight, crossed the first\ncourt which they had to traverse.  It was paved, surrounded by pillars,\nand open to the sky, of which the deep azure was paling into morning.\nThe place was perfectly silent.  Zarah observed that her father glanced\nup anxiously towards the building which formed the south side of the\ncourt, where marble pillars, with wreathed columns and richly carved\ncapitals, supported a magnificent frieze.  Antiochus himself occupied\nthat part of the palace.  But no eye peered forth at that early hour on\nthe forms that glided over the marble-paved court below.\n\nUnder the shadow of the colonnade now reached, Pollux awaited his\ndaughter;--the first point of danger was happily passed.  Pollux now\npointed to a broad, covered passage to the right, lighted by lamps, of\nwhich some had already burnt out, and others were flickering.  Zarah\nsaw at the further end forms of men dimly visible.  The guards, weary\nwith the long night-watch, were apparently sleeping; for they appeared\nto be half sitting, half reclining on the pavement, and perfectly still.\n\nZarah had now to go first, and with a throbbing heart the maiden\napproached the soldiers, breathing an inaudible prayer, for she felt\nthe peril to be very great.  The passage at the end of which the guards\nkept ward opened into one of the small gardens which adorned the\ninterior of the extensive edifice, with a tank in the centre, from\nwhich a graceful fountain usually rose from a statuary group of marble,\nrepresenting Niobe and her children.  The fountain was not playing at\nthis hour, and there was not light sufficient to throw the shadow of\nthe statues upon the still water below.\n\nIt was impossible to reach the garden without passing between the two\nguards.  Zarah could not tell whether they were indeed sleeping, and\nthe space left between them was scarcely sufficiently wide to admit of\nher traversing it.  Frightened, yet clinging to hope, Zarah, with her\njar on her head walked slowly and cautiously on.  Just as she was\ngliding by the guards, one of them started and caught hold of her dress.\n\n\"Ha! slave, what mischief are you after at such an hour as this?\"\n\n\"My lord has bidden me dip my jar in yon tank,\" said Zarah, in as calm\na tone as she could command.\n\n\"I trow your lord has heated himself with a stronger kind of drink, or\nhe would not need water to cool him now,\" said the Syrian, releasing\nZarah, who, wondering at her own success, rapidly hurried into the\ngarden.  She almost forgot, in her haste to escape, that it was needful\nto dip her jar into water, as she was still within view of the Syrian.\nThe maiden had to turn back one or two steps, and bend over the brink\nof the tank.  Its cool waters refreshed her, as she dipped her slender\nfingers therein.\n\n\"Now,\" thought Zarah, \"there is a long dark passage to traverse--is it\non the right or the left?  I scarce can remember my father's\ndirections; and a mistake now might be fatal both to him and to me.\nOh, may Heaven direct me!\"\n\nAs Zarah glanced anxiously on either side, she perceived to the left a\nnarrow opening in the mass of buildings which enclosed the garden.  The\nopening was so utterly dark, that it looked to the trembling girl like\nthe mouth of a sepulchre, and she feared to enter into it.  As Zarah\nstood hesitating, she could hear Pollux behind her giving the password\nto the sentries.  His voice strengthened the courage of his daughter;\nit was a comfort to know that he was near.  Quitting the garden, Zarah\nentered the gloomy passage.  It was not quite so dark within as it had\nappeared from without.  The maiden could dimly distinguish a niche in\nthe wall, in which she deposited her jar, which could now only burden\nher in her flight.\n\nThe passage along which Zarah was groping her way was one merely\nintended as a back-way, along which slaves carrying viands or other\nburdens might pass, though it was not unfrequently used by courtiers\nbound on secret errands.  It conducted to a much wider passage or\ncorridor, which crossed it at right angles, and which led direct to a\npostern-door of the palace, by which four guards kept watch night and\nday.  When Zarah reached the point where the smaller passage opened\ninto the larger, she became aware of the most formidable obstacle which\nshe had yet had to encounter--the presence of these guards; and to the\nyoung fugitive the obstacle seemed insuperable.  The door was strongly\nbolted, and the soldiers were wide awake; there appeared to the mind of\nZarah not the smallest chance that they would unbar the door for her,\nor suffer her to pass.\n\nThe heart of the young fugitive sank within her.  It was terrible to be\nso near to liberty, and yet have that impassable barrier between her\nand freedom!  How formidable looked the deadly weapons of the soldiers\nas they gleamed in the waning torch-light; how stern the weather-beaten\ncountenances of that warriors of Antiochus Epiphanes!\n\nZarah leaned against the wall of the dark narrow passage, and listened\nfor the footsteps of her father behind her.  She dared not venture out\nof the shadow into the lighted corridor.  Presently Pollux was at her\nside; she felt his hand gently laid on her shoulder.\n\n\"All will be lost if you attempt to save me, father,\" murmured the\ntrembling girl.  \"Oh, go on without me--leave me to God's care; I can\nnever pass those guards.\"\n\n\"When I raise my hand, come forward and go forth,\" whispered Pollux.\nNot like a prisoner escaping, but with the firm tread of a man who\ndoubts not his right and power to go where he will, the courtier of\nAntiochus strode into the corridor and advanced towards the guards, who\nsaluted, in Oriental fashion, a noble of high distinction, whose person\nwas familiar to them all.\n\n\"The word is 'The sword of Antiochus.'  Unbar that door, and quickly; I\nam on business of importance which brooks no delay,\" said Pollux to the\nguards in a tone of command.\n\nThe order was instantly obeyed.  Zarah joyfully heard bolt after bolt\nwithdrawn, and then the creaking of the door upon its hinges; and felt\nthe freshness of outer air admitted through the opening.\n\nPollux seemed to be about to pass out, when he suddenly raised his\nhand, as his appointed signal to his daughter.  Zarah, gasping with\nbreathless anxiety, obeyed the sign, and glided forward to go forth\nfrom the palace.  One of the soldiers, however, instantly barred her\npassage with his weapon.\n\n\"Let the slave pass,\" said Pollux sternly.\n\nThe point of the guard's weapon was lowered; but another of the\nsoldiers was about to remonstrate.  \"It is against orders,\" he began,\nwhen Pollux interrupted him.\n\n\"Methinks you are one who served under me in the force of Giorgias,\"\nobserved the courtier, with presence of mind.\n\n\"Ay, my lord,\" answered the soldier.\n\n\"When we next see Maccabeus, we must come to closer quarters with him,\"\nobserved the noble.  \"Here, my brave men,\"--he drew forth a purse heavy\nwith gold--\"share this among you, and drink success to the brave.\"\n\nThe soldiers could scarcely repress a shout at the unexpected\nliberality of Pollux.  Not one of them so much as looked at Zarah as\nshe glided forth into the open air.\n\nOh, transporting sense of liberty!  How delicious was the breath of\nearly morn on the fugitive's cheek; how glorious the open vault spread\nabove her, blushing in the first light of dawn!  Pollux experienced,\nthough in a very inferior degree, some of the pleasure felt by his\ndaughter, as he joined her on the broad marble steps which led down\nfrom the Grecian-built palace of Antiochus to the platform on which it\nerected.\n\n\"This way, my child,\" whispered Pollux, as drew Zarah in the direction\nof one of the high narrow streets of Jerusalem.  \"We must put as much\nspace as possible between us and pursuers before sunrise.  Would that\nwe had started hours ago!  Many dangers yet are before us.\"\n\nOne was nearer than the speaker was aware of.  Scarcely had the\nfugitives entered the nearest street when they encountered a Syrian\ncourtier, splendidly attired, whose unsteady gait betrayed in what\nmanner he had been passing the night.  More than half intoxicated as he\nwas, Lysimachus instantly recognized Pollux.\n\n\"Ha! whither bound?\" exclaimed Lysimachus, standing, or rather\nstaggering, in the narrow path directly in front of the fugitives.\n\n\"I give an account of my movements only to such as have a right to\ndemand it,\" said Pollux haughtily, attempting to pass his rival, while\nZarah kept close behind her father.\n\n\"The fox has caught sight of the trap--Pollux has found out that I hold\nhis death-warrant,\" cried Lysimachus; \"and that his head must fall at\nsunrise!\"\n\nPollux started at the words of his enemy.\n\n\"He is making his escape!\" continued Lysimachus, in a louder voice;\n\"he's falling off to the Hebrews! but this shall stop him!\" and with a\nquick, unexpected movement, the Syrian plunged a dagger into the breast\nof Pollux, then himself fell heavily rolling over into the dust!\nLysimachus had been struck down by a blow from the hand of Lycidas, who\nhad been but a few paces behind him!\n\nZarah had caught sight of the Greek, and of the venerated form of\nHadassah at that momentous crisis; her eyes riveted on them, she had\nnot seen the blow inflicted on her father, who, though mortally\nwounded, did not instantly fall.  For Pollux also beheld his mother,\nand the sudden, unexpected vision of her from whom he had so long been\ndivided, seemed to have power to arrest even the hand of death.  Parent\nand son met--they clasped--they locked each other in a first--a last\nembrace!\n\n\"Oh, mother,\" exclaimed Zarah, \"he has saved me; he is your own son\nagain, devoted to his country--to his God!\"\n\nDid Hadassah hear the joyful exclamation?  If she did not, it mattered\nbut little, for she had already grasped with ecstasy all that its\nmeaning could convey; for the last sentence uttered by Lysimachus ere\nhe fell had reached her ear.  Her son--her beloved--was \"falling away\nto the Hebrews,\" or rather was returning to the faith which he once had\nabjured; he was given back--he was saved from perdition--he was\nrescuing his child from death and his mother from despair!  Hadassah's\nmind had received all this, conveyed as it were in a lightning flash of\njoy.  She needed to know no more;--her son was folded in her arms!\n\nPollux and Hadassah sank together on the paved way.  The sight of a few\ndrops of blood on the stones first startled Zarah into a knowledge that\nLysimachus had inflicted an injury on her father.\n\n\"Oh, he is wounded!\" she exclaimed, throwing herself on her knees\nbeside him.\n\n\"Dead!\" ejaculated Anna, who was vainly attempting to raise the head of\nPollux.\n\n\"No--no--not dead!  Oh, Lycidas!--Lycidas!\" exclaimed Zarah in horror,\nintuitively appealing to the Athenian to relieve her from the terrible\nfear which Anna had raised.\n\n\"It is too true,\" said Lycidas sadly; for he could not look upon the\ncountenance of Pollux and doubt that life was extinct.  \"We must gently\nseparate the son from the arms of his mother.\"\n\nBut they who had been so long separated in life could not be separated\nin death; man had now no power to divide them.  Often had Hadassah\nthought that her heart would break with grief;--it had burst with joy!\nHer day of sorrow was over; her long Sabbath rest had begun.  The happy\nsmile which had lately played on her lips in sleep, now rested upon\nthem in that last peaceful slumber from which she should never again\nawake to weep.  She had been given her heart's desire, and so had\ndeparted in peace.  Blessed death; most joyful departure!\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVIII.\n\nUNITED IN THE GRAVE.\n\nLycidas dared not at first break to Zarah the mournful truth that one\nblow had bereft her of both her protectors, that she was now indeed an\norphan, and alone in the world.  Zarah saw that her father was dead,\nbut believed that Hadassah had swooned.  The subdued wail of Anne over\nthe corpse of her mistress, first revealed to the bereaved girl the\nfull extent of her loss.  Its greatness, its suddenness, almost stunned\nher; it was a paralyzing grief.\n\nBut this was no time for lamentation or wail.  Lycidas\nremembered--though Zarah herself for the moment entirely forgot it--her\nimminent personal peril should she be discovered and arrested by the\nSyrians.  To save her precious life, was now the Greek's most anxious\ncare.  He tried to persuade her to fly; but even his entreaties could\nnot draw the mourner from the dead bodies of Hadassah and Pollux.  It\nseemed as if Zarah could understand nothing but the greatness of her\nbereavements.  A terrible fear arose in the mind of the Greek that all\nthat the maiden had undergone during the last two days had unsettled\nher reason.\n\n\"What can be done!\" exclaimed Lycidas, almost in despair; \"if the\nSyrians find her here, she is lost.  The city will soon be astir;\nalready I hear the sound of hoofs!\"\n\nA man, leading a large mule with two empty panniers, appeared, trudging\non his solitary way.  As he approached the spot, Lycidas to his\ninexpressible relief recognized in him Joab, a man whose countenance\nwas never likely to be forgotten by him--being connected with one of\nthe most exciting passages in the life of the young Athenian.\n\n\"Ha! the lady Hadassah!\" exclaimed the muleteer, in a tone of surprise\nand regret, as his eye fell on the lifeless body, round which Zarah was\nclinging, with her face buried in the folds of its garments.\n\n\"I have seen you before; I know you to be a good man and true,\" said\nLycidas, hurriedly.  \"You risked your life to bury the martyrs, you\nwill help us now in this our sore need.  Assist us to lift these bodies\non your mule, and take them as secretly and as swiftly as we may to the\nhouse of Hadassah.\"\n\n\"I would risk anything for my old mistress,\" said Joab; \"but as for yon\nsilken-clad Syrian, I care not to burden my beast with his carcass.\"\nThe muleteer looked with stern surprise on the corpse of Pollux.  \"Who\nis he,\" continued Joab, \"and how comes he to be clasped in the arms of\nthe Lady Hadassah?\"\n\n\"My father--he is my father!\" sobbed Zarah.\n\n\"Raise them both,\" said Lycidas; \"we cannot divide them, and there is\nnot a moment to be lost.\"\n\nThe united efforts of the party hardly sufficed to raise the two bodies\nto the back of the mule, which, though a large and powerful animal,\ncould scarcely carry the double burden.  Joab took his large coarse\nmantle, and threw it over the corpses to hide them, then taking his\nbeast by the halter, led it forward in silence.\n\n\"Is there no danger from him?\" said Anna to Lycidas, pointing to\nLysimachus, who lay senseless and bleeding, his head having come into\nviolent collision with a stone.\n\nBy a brief examination Lycidas satisfied himself that the courtier was\nindeed in a state of unconsciousness, and knew nothing of what was\npassing around him.  The Athenian then went up to Zarah, who, drooping\nlike a broken lily, was slowly following the corpses of her parent and\nhis mother.  Lycidas offered her what support he could give; Zarah did\nnot, could not reject it.  A deadness seemed coming over her brain and\nheart; had not Lycidas upheld the poor girl, she must have dropped by\nthe wayside.\n\nWith what strange emotions did Lycidas through life remember that early\nwalk in Jerusalem!  The being whom he loved best was leaning upon him,\ntoo much exhausted to decline his aid; there was thrilling happiness in\nbeing so near her; but the uppermost feelings in the mind of Lycidas\nwere agonising fear upon Zarah's account, and intense impatience to\nreach some place of safety.  Fearfully slow to Lycidas appeared the\nprogress of the heavily-laden mule, terribly long the way that was\ntraversed.  The muleteer purposely avoided that which would have been\nmost direct; he dared not go through one of the city gates, but passed\nout into the open country at a spot little frequented, where a part of\nthe wall of Jerusalem still lay in ruins, as it had been left by\nApollonius.  Most unwelcome to Lycidas was the brightening day, which\nawoke the world to life.  Every human form, even that of a child, was\nto him an object of alarm.  The brave young Greek was full of terrors\nfor one who in her grief had lost the sense of personal fear.\n\nPartly owing to the skilful selection of paths by Joab, partly owing to\nthe circumstance of the day being still so young, the party did not\nmeet many persons on their way, and these few were of poorer class,\nearly commencing their morning toils.  Inquiring glances were cast at\nthe singular cortege, but at that time of bondage and peril, a common\nsense of misery and danger taught caution and repressed curiosity.\n\nOnly once was a question asked of the muleteer.\n\n\"What have you there, Joab, under yon mantle?\" inquired a woman with a\nlarge jar on her head, who stopped to survey the strange burden of the\nmule.\n\n\"A ripe sheaf of the first-fruits, a wave-offering, Deborah,\" replied\nJoab, with significance.\n\n\"There will be more, many more, cut down soon,\" replied the woman\ngloomily; \"may desolation overtake the Syrian reapers!\"\n\nJoab saw the Athenian's look of apprehension.  \"Fear not, stranger,\" he\nsaid; \"no Hebrew will betray us; Deborah is true as steel, and knows me\nwell.\"\n\nThere is little of twilight in Judaea; day leaps almost at a bound upon\nhis throne.  The world was bathed in sunshine long before the\nslowly-moving party reached the lonely dwelling amongst the hills.  How\nthankful was Lycidas for the seclusion of that wild spot, which seemed\nas if it had been chosen for purpose of concealment!  Hadassah had left\nthe door fastened when she had quitted the place on the preceding\nmorning, full of anxious terrors on account of the peril of Zarah; but\nAnna had charge of the key.  With what thankful joy would the Hebrew\nwidow have for the last time crossed that threshold in life, could she\nhave foreseen that her child would so soon return in safety, albeit as\na mourner, following Hadassah's own corpse!\n\nThe two bodies were reverentially laid on mats on the floor of the\ndwelling.  Lycidas then went outside the door with Joab, to make such\narrangements as circumstances permitted for the burial, which,\naccording to the custom of the land, rendered necessary by the climate,\nmust take place very soon.  Joab undertook to find those who would aid\nhim in digging a grave close to that of the martyrs, and promised to\ncome for the bodies an hour after midnight.  Lycidas drew forth gold,\nbut the Hebrew refused to take it.\n\n\"To bury the martyred dead is a pious office and acceptable to the Most\nHigh,\" said the brave muleteer; \"but as for yon Syrian, son though he\nmay be of the Lady Hadassah, I care not to lay his bones amongst those\nof martyrs.  I trow he was nothing but a traitor.\"\n\n\"He died by the hand of a Syrian, he died saving a Hebrew maiden, he\ndied in his mother's arms,\" said Lycidas, with tender regard for the\nfeelings of Zarah, who would he knew be sensitive in regard to respect\npaid to the corpse of her parent.  \"Deny him not a grave with his\npeople.\"\n\nJoab merely shrugged his shoulders in reply, laid his hand on the\nhalter of his mule, and departed.\n\nOn the following night, Lycidas found himself again in that\nolive-girdled spot which he had such reason to remember.  He stood\nunder that tree behind the bending trunk of which he had crouched for\nconcealment on the night when he had first seen Zarah.\n\nThe ground was very hard from the long drought.  Joab, and two\ncompanions whom he had brought to assist in the perilous service, had\nmuch difficulty in preparing a grave.\n\n\"We need the strong arm of Maccabeus here,\" observed one of the men,\nstopping to brush the beaded drops from his brow.\n\n\"Maccabeus is employed in making graves for his enemies, not for his\nfriends,\" was the muleteer's stern reply.\n\nThick heavy clouds obscured the starless sky, not a breath of wind was\nstirring, the air felt oppressively close and sultry even at the hour\nof midnight.  A single torch was all the light which the grave-diggers\ndared to employ while engaged on their dangerous work.  In almost\nperfect darkness were the remains of Hadassah and her unhappy son\nlowered into the dust.  There was no silver moonlight streaming between\nthe stems of the olives, as on the occasion of the martyrs' burial, nor\nwas Zarah present to throw flowers into the open grave.  With her the\npowers of nature had given way under the prolonged strain which they\nhad had to endure; the poor girl lay in her desolate home, too ill to\nbe even conscious of the removal from it of the remains over which she\nhad watched and mourned as long as she had been capable of doing either.\n\nIt was strange to Lycidas to be, as it were, only representative of\nHadassah's family at the funeral of herself and her son,--he, who was\nnot only no relative, but a foreigner in blood, and in religion an\nalien; but it was a privilege which he valued very highly, and which he\nwould not have resigned to have held the chief place in the most\npompous ceremonial upon earth.\n\nAs soon as the displaced earth had been thrown back into the grave of\nHadassah and her Abner, the night-clouds burst, and down came the long\nlonged-for, long-desired latter rains.  The parched dry sod seemed to\ndrink in new life; the shrivelled foliage revived, all nature rejoiced\nin the gift from heaven.  When the sun rose over the hills, water was\nagain trickling from the stream behind the dwelling of Hadassah; the\noleanders were not yet dead, they would bloom into beauty again.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIX.\n\nTHE MOURNER'S HOME.\n\nI shall pass lightly over the events of several succeeding months.  The\nsummer passed away, with its intense heat and its fierce simooms.  Then\ncame heavier dews by night, and temperature gradually decreased by day.\nThe harvest was ended, but few of the inhabitants of Jerusalem had\nventured to observe Pentecostal solemnities.  The time for the Feast of\nTabernacles arrived, but none dared raise leafy booths of palm and\nwillow--to spend therein the week of rejoicing, according to the custom\nof happier years.\n\nEarly in the summer Antiochus Epiphanes had quitted Judaea for Persia,\nto quell an insurrection which his cupidity had provoked in the latter\ncountry.  The absence of the tyrant had somewhat mitigated the\nfierceness of the persecution against such Hebrews as sought to obey\nthe law of Moses; but still no one dared openly to practise Jewish\nrites in Jerusalem, and the image of Jupiter Olympus still profaned the\ntemple on Mount Zion.\n\nJudas Maccabeus, in the meantime, still maintained a bold front in\nSouthern Judaea and the tract of country called Idumea; the power of\nhis name was felt from the rich pasture-lands surrounding Hebron as far\nas the fair plains of Beersheba on the south-west--or on the south-east\nthe desolate valley of salt.  Wherever the Asmonean's influence\nextended, fields were sown or their harvests gathered in peace; the\nhusbandman followed his team, and the shepherd folded his flocks;\nmothers rejoiced over the infants whom they could now present to the\nLord without fear.\n\nBut again the portentous war-cloud was rolling up from the direction of\nAntioch.  Lycias, the regent of the western provinces, by the command\nof Antiochus had gathered around him a very large army, a force yet\nmore formidable than that which had been led by Nicanor, and Syria was\nagain collecting her hordes to crush by overwhelming numbers Judas and\nhis patriot band.\n\nAnd how had the last half-year sped with Zarah?  Very slowly and very\nheavily, as time usually passes with those who mourn.  And deeply did\nZarah mourn for Hadassah--her more than mother, her counsellor, her\nguide--the being round whom maiden's affections so closely had twined\nthat she had felt that she could hardly sustain existence deprived of\nHadassah.  And much Zarah wept for her father--though in remembering\nhim a deep spring of joy mingled with her sorrow.  A thousand times did\nZarah repeat to herself his words of blessing--a thousand times\nfervently thank God that she and her parent had met.  The words of\nLysimachus had lightened her heart of what would otherwise have\npainfully pressed upon it.  Those words had told her that Pollux was a\ndoomed man; that apostasy on her part could not have saved his life;\nthat had he not fallen by the Syrian's dagger, he would have been but\nreserved for the headsman's axe.  And had Pollux perished thus, there\nwould have been none of that gleam of hope which, at least in Zarah's\neyes, now rested upon his grave.\n\nZarah never left the precincts of her secluded dwelling, except to\nvisit her parents' grave--where she went as often as she dared venture\nforth, accompanied by the faithful Anna.  No feet but their own ever\ncrossed the threshold of their home.  Zarah's simple wants were always\nsupplied.  Anna disposed in Jerusalem of the flax which her young\nmistress spun, as soon as Zarah had regained sufficient strength to\nresume her humble labours.  During the period of the maiden's severe\nillness, Anna had secretly disposed of the precious rolls of Scripture\nfrom which Hadassah had made her copies, and had obtained for them such\na price as enabled her for many weeks to procure every comfort and even\nluxury required by the sufferer.  The copies themselves, traced by the\ndear hand now mouldering into dust, Zarah counted as her most precious\npossession; her most soothing occupation was to read them, pray over\nthem, commit to memory their contents.\n\nDuring all this long period of time, Zarah never saw Lycidas, but she\nhad an instinctive persuasion that he was not far away--that, like an\nunseen good angel, he was protecting her still.  The name of the\nAthenian was never forgotten in Zarah's prayers.  She felt that she\nowed a debt of gratitude to one who had struck down her father's\nmurderer, who had paid the last honours to his remains and those of\nHadassah, and to whose care she believed that she owed her own freedom\nand life.  If there was something more than gratitude in the maiden's\nfeelings towards the Greek, it was a sentiment so refined and purified\nby grief that it cast no dimness over the mirror of conscience.\n\nBut Zarah knew that her life could not always flow on thus.  It was a\nmost unusual thing in her land for a maiden thus to dwell alone,\nwithout any apparent protection save that of a single handmaid.  It was\na violation of all the customs of her people, an unseemly thing which\ncould only be justified by necessity.  The daughter of Abner was also\nin constant peril of having her retreat discovered by those who had\nsearched for herself and her father in vain, but who might at any day\nor any hour find and seize her as a condemned criminal, and either put\nher to death, or send her as a captive to Antiochus Epiphanes.\n\nOften, very often had Zarah turned over the subject of her peculiar\nposition in her mind, and considered whether she ought not to leave the\nprecincts of Jerusalem, and secretly depart for Bethsura.  There the\norphan could claim the hospitality of her aged relative Rachel, should\nshe be living yet, or the protection of the Asmonean brothers, who,\nbeing her next of kin, were, according to Jewish customs, the maiden's\nnatural guardians.  But Zarah shrank from taking this difficult step.\nVery formidable to her was the idea of undertaking a journey even of\nbut twenty miles' length, through a country where she would be liable\nto meet enemies at every step of the way.  Zarah had no means of\ntravelling save on foot, unless she disposed of some of the few jewels\nwhich she had inherited from her parents; and this she was not only\nunwilling to do, but she feared to do it lest, through the sale of\nthese gems in Jerusalem, she should be tracked to her place of retreat.\nAnna was faithful as a servant, but could never be leaned upon as an\nadviser--she would obey, but she could not counsel; and her young\nmistress, timid and gentle, with no one to guide and protect her, felt\nher strength and courage alike insufficient for an adventurous journey\nfrom Jerusalem to Bethsura.\n\nThe possible necessity which might arise of her having to place herself\nunder the protection of Maccabeus, should Rachel be no longer living at\nBethsura, greatly increased Zarah's reluctance to leave her present\nabode.  The maiden remembered too well what Hadassah had disclosed of a\nproposed union between herself and Judas, not to feel that it would be\npeculiarly painful to have to throw herself upon the kindness of her\nbrave kinsman.  Zarah could not, as she thought, tell him why the idea\nof such a union was hateful to her soul--why she was averse to\nfulfilling the wishes of Mattathias and Hadassah.  While Maccabeus\noften experienced an almost irrepressible yearning once more to look\nupon Zarah, whom he believed to be still with Hadassah, of whose death\nhe never had heard, Zarah shrank with emotions of fear from meeting the\nHebrew chieftain.\n\nTender affection also made the orphan girl cling to her parents' grave\nand the home of her youth.  Dear associations were linked with almost\nevery object on which her eyes rested.  Those to whom the present is a\nthorny waste, and the future a prospect darkened by gloomy mists, are\nwont to dwell more than others on the green spots which memory yet can\nsurvey in the past.  It is natural to youth to look forward.  Zarah, as\nregarded this world, dared only look back.  It was well for her that\nshe could do so with so little of remorse or regret.\n\n        \"Not to have known a treasure's worth\n  Till time hath stolen away the slighted boon,\n  Is cause of half the misery we feel,\n  And makes this world the wilderness it is.\"\n\n\nWhen winter was drawing near, when the bursting cotton-pods had been\ngathered, and the vintage season was over, when the leaves were\nbeginning to fall fast, and the cold grew sharp after sunset,\ncircumstances occurred which compelled a change in Zarah's quiet\nroutine of existence.  She could no longer be left to indulge her\nlonely sorrow; the current of life was about to take a sudden turn\nwhich must of necessity bring her amongst new scenes, and expose her to\nfresh trials.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXX.\n\nCHANGES.\n\nOne evening, towards the hour of sunset, Zarah sat alone at her wheel\nawaiting the return of Anna from the city, she was startled by the\nsound of a hand rapping hastily upon the panel of the door.  The hand\nwas assuredly not that of Anna, who, from precaution, had adopted a\npeculiar way of tapping to announce her return.  As no visitor ever\ncame to Zarah's dwelling, it was no marvel that she felt alarm at the\nunexpected sound, especially as she was aware that she had neglected\nher usual precaution of barring the door during the absence of Anna.\nAs Zarah hastily rose to repair her omission, the door was opened from\nwithout, and Lycidas stood before her.  The countenance of the Greek\nexpressed anxiety and alarm.\n\n\"Lady, forgive the intrusion,\" said Lycidas, bending in lowly\nsalutation before the startled girl; \"but regard for your safety\ncompels me to seek this interview.  I was to-day in company with\nLysimachus, the Syrian courtier--how we chanced to be together, or\nwherefore he mentioned to me what I am about to disclose, matters\nlittle, and I would be brief.  Lysimachus told me that, from\ninformation which he had received--how, I know not--he had cause to\nsuspect that the maiden who some half-year back had been sentenced by\nthe king to death if she refused to apostatize from her faith, was\nliving secluded in a dwelling amongst the hills to the east of the\ncity.  The Syrian declared that he was resolved to-morrow morn to\nexplore thoroughly every spot which could possibly afford a place of\nconcealment to the maiden--whom he intends to seize and send as a\nprisoner into Persia, to the merciless tyrant whom he serves.\"\n\nZarah turned very pale at the tidings, and leaned on her wheel for\nsupport.\n\n\"You must fly to-night, dearest lady,\" said Lycidas; \"this dwelling is\nno longer a safe asylum for you.\"\n\n\"Whither can I fly, and how?\" murmured the orphan girl.  \"I have no\nfriend here except\"--Zarah hesitated, and Lycidas completed the\nsentence.\n\n\"Except one to whom your lightest wish is a command; to whom every hair\nof your head is dearer than life!\" exclaimed the Athenian.\n\n\"Speak not thus to me, Lycidas,\" said Zarah, in a tone of entreaty;\n\"you know too well the impassable barrier which divides us.\"\n\n\"Not impassable, Zarah,\" cried the Greek; \"it has been thrown down, I\nhave trampled over it, and it separates us no longer.  Hear me, O\ndaughter of Abraham!  Much have I learned since last I stood on this\nthreshold; deeply have I studied your Scriptures; long have I secretly\nconversed with the wise and learned who could instruct me in your\nfaith.  I am now persuaded that there is no God but one God--He who\nrevealed Himself to Abraham: I have renounced every heathen\nsuperstition; I have in all things conformed to the law of Moses; I\nhave been formally received as a proselyte into the Jewish Church; and\nam now, like Achor the Ammonite, in everything save name and birth, a\nHebrew.\"\n\nZarah could not refrain from uttering an exclamation of delight.  Her\nwhole countenance suddenly lighted up with an expression of happiness,\nwhich was reflected on that of him who stood before her--for in that\nblissful moment Lycidas felt that he must be beloved.\n\n\"Oh, joy!\" cried Zarah, clasping her hands.  \"Then have you also\nembraced the Holy Covenant, and you are numbered amongst the children\nof Abraham!  Then may I look upon you as a brother indeed!\"\n\n\"Can you not look upon me as something more than a brother, Zarah?\"\nexclaimed the Athenian.  \"Why should you not fly--since you needs must\nfly from this dangerous spot--under the protection, the loving, devoted\ncare, of an affianced husband?\"\n\nZarah flushed, trembled, covered her face with her hands, and sank,\nrather than seated herself, upon the divan from which she had risen on\nhearing the knock of the Greek.  Lycidas ventured to seat himself\nbeside the young maiden, take one of her unresisting hands and press it\nfirst to his heart, then to his lips--for he read consent in the\nsilence of Zarah.\n\nBut the maiden had none of the calm tranquillity of happiness; she felt\nbewildered, doubtful of herself; again she covered her face and\nmurmured, \"Oh, that my mother were here to guide me!\"\n\n\"Hadassah would not have spurned a proselyte whom the elders have\nreceived; she was too large-minded, too just,\" said Lycidas,\ndisappointed and somewhat mortified at the doubts which evidently\ndisturbed the mind of the maiden.  \"Listen to the plan which I have\nformed for your escape, my Zarah.  I have already made arrangements\nwith the trusty Joab.  He will bring a horse-litter an hour after dark\nto bear you and your handmaid hence; I will accompany you as your armed\nand mounted attendant.  We will direct our course to the coast.  At\nJoppa we shall, I hope, find a vessel, borne forward by whose white\nwings we shall soon reach my own beautiful and glorious land, where\nlove, freedom, and happiness, shall await my fair Hebrew bride!\"\n\nFor some moments Zarah made no reply; how tempting was the vista thus\nsuddenly opened before her--radiant with rosy light, like those seen in\nthe clouds at sunrise!  Then Zarah uncovered her face, but without\nraising it, or venturing to look at Lycidas, she said, in a voice that\ntrembled with emotion, \"Hadassah, my mother, would have deemed it\nunseemly for a maiden thus to flee from her country to a land where her\nGod is not known and worshipped, and under the protection of one who is\nnone of her kindred.\"\n\n\"I thought that you had no kindred, Zarah,\" said Lycidas, with\nuneasiness; \"that you had none left of your family whose guardianship\nyou could seek.\"\n\n\"I have--or had--an aged relative, Rachel of Bethsura,\" replied Zarah,\n\"who, if she be yet living, will assuredly receive me into her home.\nBut my next of kin are the Asmonean brothers.\"\n\n\"The noblest family in the land!\" exclaimed the Athenian.  \"If it be\nindeed impossible for you to escape with me into Greece--\"\n\n\"Not impossible, but wrong,\" said Zarah, softly; \"it would be\ndisobeying what I know would have been the will of her whose wishes are\nmore sacred to me now than ever.\"\n\n\"Then be mine in your own land,\" cried Lycidas, \"where I may show that\nI merit to win you.  Will the noble Judas and his brothers deem me\nunworthy to unite with one of their race if I devote my sword to the\ncause of which they are the champions--a cause as glorious as that for\nwhich my ancestor died at Marathon?\"\n\nStill the cloud of doubt did not pass from the fair brow of Zarah.\nThere was a difficulty in her mind which she shrank from disclosing to\nLycidas.  At last she timidly said, her cheeks glowing crimson as she\nspoke, \"Shall I be candid with you, Lycidas? shall I tell all--as to a\nbrother?\"\n\n\"All, all,\" replied the Athenian, with painful misgiving at his heart.\n\n\"Beloved Hadassah is at rest, I can hear her dear voice no more,\nbut--but I am not ignorant of what were her views and wishes,\" said\nZarah.  \"I believe--indeed I know\"--Zarah could hardly speak distinctly\nenough, in her confusion, for the strained ear of Lycidas to catch her\nwords--\"she had destined me for another; I am not quite certain whether\nI be not even betrothed.\"\n\nLycidas could not refrain from a passionate outburst.  \"It was\nwicked--cruel--infamous,\" he cried, \"to dispose of your hand without\nyour consent!\"\n\n\"Such words must never be applied to aught that she did,\" said Zarah.\n\"The revered mother ever consulted the happiness as well as the honour\nof her child.  She would never have urged upon me any marriage from\nwhich my heart revolted, but she let me know her wishes.  And the very\nlast day that we were together\"--tears flowed fast from under Zarah's\nlong drooping lashes as she went on--\"on that fatal day, ere I left her\nto attend the Passover feast, Hadassah charged me, by the love that I\nbore to her, never to take any important step in life without at least\nconsulting him in whom she felt assured that I should find my best\nearthly protector.\"\n\n\"And who may this chosen individual be?\" asked Lycidas, almost\nfiercely; a pang of jealousy stirring in his breast as he demanded the\nname of his rival.\n\nZarah murmured, \"Judas Maccabeus.\"\n\n\"Judas Maccabeus!\" exclaimed the young Greek, starting to his feet,\nmore alarmed at the sound of that name than had been the warriors of\nNicanor, when hearing it suddenly at night in the death-shout.\nLycidas, with all the enthusiastic admiration which noble deeds inspire\nin a poetic and generous nature like his, had regarded the career of\nthe Hebrew hero.  The history of Maccabeus was to the Greek an acted\nepic; in character, in renown, Judas, in his estimation, towered like a\ngiant above all other men of his generation.  Lycidas had met the\nchieftain but once; but in that one meeting had received impressions\nwhich made him idealize Maccabeus into a being more like the demi-gods\nof whom poets sang, whom worshippers adored, than one of the denizens\nof earth.  He was in the eyes of the young enthusiast, conqueror,\npatriot, and prince--a breathing embodiment of \"the heroism of virtue.\"\nThe Greek had never thought of Maccabeus before as one subject to human\npassions, save love of country, and perhaps love of fame; or as one\ninfluenced by human affections, who might seek to win a woman's heart\nas well as to triumph over his foes.  The idea of having him for a\nrival struck the young Athenian with something like despair; it seemed\nmore than presumption to enter the arena against such an opponent as\nthis.  Lycidas believed that, had Antiochus Epiphanes laid the crown of\nSyria at the feet of Zarah, she would have rejected the gift; but\nbreathed there a maiden in Judaea who could do aught but accept with\npride the proffered hand of her country's hero--of him who was to all\nother mortals as snow-capped Lebanon to a mole-hill?\n\nZarah felt that her disclosure had inspired more alarm in the mind of\nLycidas than she had intended, or than was warranted by the true state\nof the relations between her and the Hebrew leader.  She hastened to\nrelieve the apprehensions of the Greek.  \"I reverence Maccabeus,\" said\nthe maiden; \"I would repose the greatest confidence alike in his wisdom\nand his honour; but, personally, Judas is no more to me than any of his\nbrothers.\"\n\nLycidas drew a deep sigh of relief.  Grateful for the encouragement\nwhich he drew from this avowal, the Greek resumed his place by the side\nof Zarah.  \"What course will you then pursue towards Maccabeus?\" he\ninquired.\n\n\"I must consult him, as Hadassah bade me consult him,\" said the maiden:\n\"he must know all that most nearly concerns me; it seems to me as if he\nstood to me now in the place of a father.\"\n\nThe spirits of Lycidas rose at the word; again his heart was buoyant\nwith hope.\n\n\"Our first object now, beloved one,\" said he, \"must be to place your\nperson in safety.  As you will not seek refuge in Attica, we will bend\nour course southward--if such be your wish--and find out your aged\nrelative at Bethsura.  I would fain that she dwelt in any other\ndirection; for Bethsura itself holds a Syrian garrison, the army of\nLysias is advancing, and southern Judaea is so infested by armed bands\nthat travelling is scarcely safe.  Have you no friends, no relatives,\nin Galilee, or on the sea-coast?\"\n\nZarah shook her head.  \"I know not of one,\" she replied.  \"Rachel\ndwells not in Bethsura but near it, and in a spot so retired that the\nenemy is scarcely likely to find it out.  If the country be infested by\narmed bands--they are the followers of Maccabeus, and from them we have\nnothing to dread.\"\n\nThough Lycidas was not a little disappointed at having to give up his\nfirst scheme--that of bearing off Zarah to the coast, and thence to\nAttica--he could not but respect her scruples, and own that the course\nupon which she had decided was not only the most dutiful but the most\nwise.  It was agreed therefore that Zarah, under the escort of Lycidas,\nshould start at the hour which the Greek had first proposed; but that,\ninstead of Joppa, her destination should be Bethsura--at which place,\nby travelling all night, she might hope to arrive before dawn.\n\nWhile Zarah was concluding these arrangements with Lycidas, Anna\nreturned from Jerusalem.  The face of the faithful servant expressed\nanxiety; a warning dropped in her ear by a Hebrew acquaintance had\nrendered her uneasy on account of her mistress.  \"Beware! dogs are on\nthe scent of the deer.\"  Heartily glad was the handmaid to find that\nthe Athenian lord had come to aid the escape of Zarah; his talents, his\ncourage, the gold which he so lavishly spent, would, as she thought,\nclear away all difficulties attending their flight.\n\nThe Greek soon left the lady and her attendant to make needful\npreparations for a journey so sudden and unexpected as that which was\nbefore them.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXI.\n\nNIGHT TRAVELLING.\n\nThe enforced hastiness of Zarah's departure rendered it perhaps less\npainful than it would otherwise have been.  Zarah had little time to\nindulge in tender regrets on leaving a spot which memory still peopled\nwith loved forms, giving a life to lifeless objects, making the table\nat which Hadassah had sat so often, the wheel at which she had spun,\nthe plants that she had nurtured, things too precious to be parted from\nwithout a pang.  There was little which Zarah could take with her in a\nlitter; save the parchments, some articles of dress and her few jewels,\nall must be left behind.\n\nYet at this time of peril, while the wound inflicted by bereavement was\nyet unhealed, Zarah felt a spring of happiness which she had believed\ncould never flow again, rising within her young heart.  \"Lycidas is an\nadopted son of Abraham!  Lycidas, one of God's chosen people!\"  That\nthought sufficed to make Zarah's soft eyes bright and her step buoyant,\nto flood her spirit with hope and delight.  Not that Zarah forgot\nHadassah in her new sense of happiness; on the contrary, the memory of\nthe sainted dead was linked with each thought of joy, and served to\nmake it more holy.\n\n\"How Hadassah would have praised and blessed God for this!\" reflected\nZarah.  \"Her words were the seeds of truth which fell on the richest of\nsoils, where the harvest now gladdens her child.  It was she who first\nsaved the precious life of my Lycidas, and then led his yet more\nprecious soul to the Fount of Salvation!  Had Lycidas never listened to\nthe voice of my mother, he had been an idolater still!\"\n\nIt was with more of pleasure than of apprehension that Zarah, timid as\nwas her nature, anticipated the journey before her.  Lycidas was to be\nher protector, Lycidas would be near her, his presence seemed to bring\nwith it safety and joy.\n\n\"And may it not be thus with all the future journey of life?\" whispered\nhope to the maiden.  \"Will Judas Maccabeus make any very strong\nopposition to the union of his kinswoman to a proselyte, when he finds\nthat her happiness is involved in it, and that Lycidas will be a\ngallant defender of the faith which he has adopted as his own?\"  Zarah\nfelt some anxiety and doubt upon this question, but nothing approaching\nto despair.  The maiden had little idea of the intensity of the\naffection concentrated upon herself by one who was wont to restrain\noutward expression of his feelings; she feared that Judas might be\noffended and displeased, but never imagined that she had the power of\nmaking him wretched.  Was such a mighty hero, such an exalted leader,\nlikely to care for the heart of a simple girl?  Love was a weakness to\nwhich Zarah deemed that so calm and lofty a being as Maccabeus could\nscarce condescend.  But is the forest oak less strong and majestic\nbecause spring drapes its branches with thousands of blossoms, or are\nthose blossoms less truly flowers because their hue is too like that of\nthe foliage to strike a careless beholder?  Maccabeus, with his\nthoughtful reserved disposition, would as little have talked of his\naffection for Zarah as he would of the pulsations of his heart; but\nboth were a part of his nature, a necessity of his existence.\n\nJoab was punctual to his appointment.  An hour after dark the clatter\nof horses' hoofs was heard on the lonely hill-path which led to the\nhouse of Hadassah.  Anna cautiously unclosed the door, peering forth\nanxiously to see whether those who came were friends or foes.\n\n\"It is my Lord Lycidas!\" she joyfully exclaimed, as the horseman who\nrode in front drew his rein at the door.\n\nThe Athenian found Zarah and her attendant ready to start, and in a few\nminutes the two were seated in the horse-litter conducted by Joab, the\ncrimson curtains were drawn, and the travellers departed from the\nlonely habitation upon their perilous journey.\n\nThe weather at this advanced season was cold, almost frosty, at night;\nbut Lycidas was glad of the cessation of the heavy rains which had, as\nusual, heralded the approach of winter.  The night was cloudless and\nclear, the azure vault was spangled with stars.\n\nAfter some windings amongst the hills, the party entered the long\nvalley of Rephaim, rich with corn-fields, vineyards, and orchards.  The\ncorn had long since been garnered, the grapes had been gathered, but\nthe fig-trees were still laden with fruit.  Zarah noticed little of the\nscenery around her, though brilliant star-light rendered it faintly\nvisible.  The rough motion of the litter over rocky roads precluded\nconversation, even had Zarah been disposed to enter into it with her\nattendant.  The rocking of the litter rather invited sleep, and after\nthe maiden had been for about an hour and a half slowly pursuing her\njourney, drowsiness was stealing over her, when she was startled by a\nsudden shock, which, though not violent, was sufficient somewhat to\nalarm, and thoroughly to arouse her.\n\n\"Has anything happened?\" asked the maiden, partly drawing back one of\nthe crimson curtains of her litter.  Lycidas had dismounted, and was at\nher side in a moment.\n\n\"It is a trifling matter,\" he said; \"be not alarmed, dear lady.  One of\nthe thongs has given way; Joab will speedily set all to rights; I only\nregret the delay.\"\n\n\"Where are we now?\" asked Zarah.\n\n\"Close to the village of Bethlehem,\" was the Athenian's reply.\n\n\"Ah!  I must look upon Bethlehem again!\" cried Zarah with emotion,\ndrawing the curtain further back, so as to obtain a wider view of the\ndim landscape of swelling hills and soft pastures.  \"My loved mother\nHadassah was wont to bring me every year to this place; she called its\nstones the Memorial of the Past, and the Cradle of the Future.\"\n\n\"I know that Bethlehem is a place of great historical interest,\"\nobserved Lycidas, glancing around; \"it was here that David, the\nanointed shepherd, watched his flock, and encountered the lion and the\nbear.  And it was here that the gentle Ruth gleaned barley amongst the\nreapers of Boaz.\"  The young Greek was well pleased to show his\nrecently-acquired knowledge of sacred story.\n\n\"Yes; my mother was wont to point out to me the very spots where events\ntook place which must ever render them dear to the Hebrews,\" observed\nZarah.  \"But Hadassah always said that the chief interest of Bethlehem\nlies in the future rather than in the past.  It is here,\" Zarah\nreverentially lowered her voice as she went on--\"it is here that\nMessiah the Prince shall be born, as has been revealed to us by a\nprophet.\"\n\n\"One would scarcely deem this village to be a place likely to be so\nhonoured,\" observed Lycidas.\n\n\"Ah! you remind me of what my dear mother once said in reply to words\nof mine, spoken several years ago, when I was very young,\" said Zarah.\n\"'It will be a long time before the Prince can come,' I observed, 'for\nI have looked on every side, and cannot see so much as the first stone\nlaid of the palace in which He will be born.'--'Think you, child,' said\nHadassah, 'that a building ten thousand times more splendid than that\nraised by Solomon would add a whit to His glory?  The presence of the\nking makes the palace, though it should be but a cave.  Does it\nincrease the value of the diamond if the earth in which it lies\nembedded show a few spangles of gold dust?'--I have never forgotten\nthat gentle reproof,\" continued Zarah, \"and it makes me look with\nsomething of reverence even on such a building as that mean inn which\nwe see yonder, for who can say that the Prince of Peace may not be born\neven in a place so lowly!\"\n\nAs Joab was still occupied in repairing the thong, Lycidas, standing\nbridle in hand beside Zarah's litter, went on with the conversation.\n\n\"The mind of Hadassah,\" he observed, \"seemed especially to dwell upon\nhumiliation, suffering and sacrifice in connection with the mysterious\nBeing for whose advent she looked--we all look.  If her view be\ncorrect, it may be possible that not only the death, but the earthly\nlife of the Messiah may be one long sacrifice from the cradle to the\ngrave.\"\n\nThe conversation then turned to themes less lofty, till Joab had\nsucceeded in effecting the slight needful repairs.  Lycidas then\nremounted his horse, and the party resuming their journey, Bethlehem\nwas soon left behind them.\n\nIt is unnecessary to describe that night-journey, or tell how Lycidas\nand his companions passed the site of King Solomon's pleasure-grounds,\nhis \"gardens, and orchards and pools of water;\" or how the road then\nled over the succession of barren hills which extend southward as far\nas Hebron.  Travelling was slow and tedious, the road rough, and the\nhorses grew weary.  Lycidas was too anxious to place his charge in\nsafety, to permit of a halt for refreshment and rest on the way.  The\nGreek's uneasiness on Zarah's account was increased as, towards dawn,\nthey met parties of peasants fleeing, as they said, from the Syrians,\nwho, like a vast cloud of locusts, were carrying devastation through\nthe land.  Lycidas felt that danger was on all sides; he knew not\nwhether to advance or to retreat; responsibility weighed heavily upon\nhim, and he almost envied the stolid composure with which the hardy\nJoab trudged on his weary way.  The Athenian would not disturb the\nserenity of Zarah's mind by imparting to her the anxious cares which\nperplexed his own.  Lycidas was touched by the implicit confidence\nplaced by the gentle girl in his power to protect and guide her; and he\nwas thankful that while with him eye, ear, brain, were strained to the\nutmost to detect the most remote approach of danger, the weary Zarah in\nher litter was able to enjoy the refreshment of sleep.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXII.\n\nFRIENDS OR FOES?\n\n\"Hold! stand! who are ye, and whither go ye?\" was the stern challenge,\nthe sound of which startled Zarah out of a pleasant dream.  The motion\nof the litter suddenly ceased, a strong hand was on the bridle of the\nhorse which Lycidas was riding, a weapon was pointed at the breast of\nthe Greek.  There was not yet sufficient light to enable him to\ndistinguish whether those who thus arrested the further progress of the\nparty were Syrians or Hebrews.\n\n\"We are quiet travellers,\" said the Athenian; \"let us pursue our\njourney in peace.  If gold be your object, I will give it.\"\n\n\"If we want your gold we can take it,\" cried the leader of the band\nthat now surrounded the litter.  \"Are you a follower of Antiochus\nEpiphanes?\"\n\n\"No,\" replied Lycidas boldly.  To speak the simple truth is ever the\nmanliest, and in this instance it also proved the safest course to\npursue.  The grasp on the Greek's bridle was relaxed, the point of the\nweapon was lowered, and in a more courteous tone the leader inquired,\n\"Are you then a friend of Judas Maccabeus?\"\n\n\"May he be given the necks of his enemies!\" exclaimed Joab, before\nLycidas had time to reply.  \"It is his kinswoman whom we are taking in\nthis litter to Bethsura, that we may put her in safety out of reach of\nthe tyrant who has sworn to slay her because she will not burn incense\nto his idol!\"\n\n\"What, the lady Hadassah?\" asked one of the men.\n\n\"No, it is more than six months since that Mother in Israel departed to\nAbraham's bosom,\" replied Joab, lowering his tone.\n\nAn exclamation of regret burst from more than one of those who\nsurrounded the litter, and he who had first spoken observed, \"These\nwill be sorry tidings for Maccabeus and his brethren.\"\n\nLycidas now addressed a Hebrew who appeared to be of superior condition\nto the others.  \"In this litter,\" he said, \"is the grand-daughter of\nthe lady Hadassah.  She is fleeing from persecution, and seeks an\nasylum in the home of an aged relative who dwells near Bethsura.\"\n\n\"Ah!  Rachel the widow; we know her well,\" was the reply.\n\n\"Then you can guide this lady to her abode.\"\n\n\"Guide her into the wolf's den!\" exclaimed the Hebrew; and one of his\ncompanions added with a laugh, \"The only way to reach Rachel's dwelling\nfrom hence is over the corpses of defeated Syrians, as mayhap we shall\ndo ere to-morrow.\"\n\nAlarmed at finding that he had conducted Zarah to the scene of an\nexpected deadly conflict, Lycidas inquired with anxiety, \"Where then\ncan the lady and her attendant find shelter and protection?\"\n\n\"For protection, she has all that our swords can give--our fate must be\nher fate,\" replied the Hebrew whom the Greek had addressed.  \"As for\nshelter, there is a goatherd's hut hard by.  Some of our men have\npassed the night there, though our leader slept on the ground.\"\n\nThere was some whispering amongst the Hebrews, and Lycidas caught the\nwords, uttered in a half-jesting tone, \"An awkward matter for Maccabeus\nto have this his fair kinswoman coming on the eve of a battle on which\nthe fate of Judah depends.\"\n\n\"I pray you show us this hut at once,\" said the Greek, annoyed at\nZarah's being exposed to such observations, and impatient to remove her\nas soon as possible to a place of as much retirement as could be found\nin the camping-ground of an army.  \"The lady has travelled all night,\nand is weary.\"\n\n\"I will lead her to the hut,\" said one of the Hebrews; \"and do you,\nSaul,\" he continued, addressing a companion, \"go at once and announce\nto our prince the lady's arrival.\"\n\nAgain the litter of Zarah moved onwards, and the weary horses were\nguided to a hut at no great distance.  One of the Jewish soldiers ran\non before to give notice, that the dwelling might be vacated of its\nwarlike occupants, and put into such order for the reception of a lady\nas circumstances and haste would permit.  The Hebrews who had passed\nthe frosty night under the roof of the goatherd's dwelling, quitted it\nat once to make room for the lady and her handmaid, leaving a portion\nof their simple breakfast for the newly-arrived guests.\n\nA homely care occupied the mind of Zarah on her way to the hut.\n\n\"Anna,\" she said to her attendant, \"we are much beholden to Joab, and I\nhave no shekels wherewith to pay for the hire of the litter and horses,\nor to requite him for his faithful service.  It is not meet that the\nLord Lycidas should be at charges for me.  Let Joab speak to me when I\nquit the litter, or do you give him this jewel from me.\"\n\nThe jewel was a massive silver bracelet, which had been worn by the\nunhappy Pollux.  Zarah had selected this from the other ornaments which\nhad belonged to her parents, on account of the weight of metal which it\ncontained.  There was also something heathenish in the fashion of the\nbracelet itself, which made the Hebrew maiden care not to keep it as a\nremembrance of her father.\n\n\"Joab is not here,\" said Anna, glancing from between the curtains; \"he\nhas given up the guidance of the horses to one of the Hebrew warriors.\"\n\nJoab had in fact gone off with Saul, being eager to be the first to\ncarry to Judas Maccabeus intelligence of what had occurred in Jerusalem\nsince they had parted beside the martyrs' grave, and especially of the\nmomentous events which had occurred in the family of Hadassah.\n\n\"If I cannot see Joab himself,\" observed Zarah, \"I must ask the Lord\nLycidas to find him and do this my errand, for the muleteer must not go\nunrewarded by me.\"\n\nAccordingly, after the maiden, assisted by Lycidas, had descended from\nher litter, and explored with Anna the goatherd's abode, she bashfully\nasked her protector to execute for her this little commission, and with\nthe heavy silver bracelet requite her obligation to Joab.  \"To\nyourself,\" added Zarah with downcast eyes, \"I can proffer but heartfelt\nthanks.\"\n\nThe spirits of Lycidas had risen: with him, as with nature, the gloom\nof night was now succeeded by the brilliance of morning.  The rebound\nof a mind lately weighed down with intense anxiety and the pressure of\nheavy responsibility was so great that it seemed as if every care were\nflung off for ever.  Lycidas had accomplished his dangerous mission; he\nhad placed his beloved charge under the care of her relatives; and he\nfelt assured that her heart was his own.  The clang of martial\npreparation which he now heard around him was as music to the ardent\nspirit of the Greek.  He was now going to join in a brave struggle\nunder a heroic commander, to deserve Zarah, and then to win her!  The\nheart of the gallant young Athenian beat high with hope.\n\n\"Nay, Zarah,\" said Lycidas gaily, in reply to the maiden's words; \"I\nmay one day claim from you something better than thanks.  As for the\nbracelet, rest assured that I will well requite faithful Joab; he shall\nbe no loser if I keep the jewel in pledge, and never part with it, save\nto my bride.\"  Lycidas clasped the bracelet on his arm, as with a proud\nand joyous step he quitted the goatherd's hut.\n\n\"Stay, Lycidas,\" expostulated Zarah, following him over the threshold;\nbut then arresting her steps, and watching his receding form for a\nmoment with a smile as radiant as his own.  \"How could he fear a\nrival!\" was the thought flitting through Zarah's mind as she gazed.\nShe then turned to re-enter the hut, and saw before her--Judas\nMaccabeus!\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXIII.\n\nTHE LEADER AND THE MAN.\n\nIn the unsettled state of the Holy Land, where its brave sons had to\nmaintain a kind of guerrilla warfare against the powerful enemy who\nheld its strongholds and ruled in its capital--where communication\nbetween places not far remote from each other was difficult and\ndangerous, and a written letter was a thing almost unknown--the\nAsmonean brothers had been in ignorance of many events which have\noccupied a large space in these pages.  Joab, therefore, on his arrival\nin the camp of the Hebrews, had much to tell that was to them entirely\nnew.\n\nJudas with thrilling interest had listened to the muleteer's account of\nZarah's peril and escape from the palace of Antiochus, and the deaths\nof Hadassah and Pollux.  The fount of tenderness which lay concealed\nunder the chief's usually calm and almost stern exterior was stirred to\nits inmost depths.  Grief, admiration, love, swelled his brave heart.\nMaccabeus could hardly wait to hear the end of Joab's narration.  Zarah\nwas near him--his beauteous, his beloved, his chosen bride--she who had\nso suffered and so mourned--the tender orphan maiden bereaved of all\nlove, all protection save his own--but dearer in her poverty and\ndesolation than she could have been had she brought him the dowry of an\nempire!\n\nIt was thus that Maccabeus thought of Zarah, as, with an eagerness of\nimpatience which could not have brooked an instant's longer delay, he\nstrode rapidly towards the hut which sheltered his treasure.  He soon\nbeheld her--could it indeed be she?  No desolate, weeping, trembling\nfugitive met the gaze of the chief; but a maiden bright and fair as the\nmorn, with a blush on her cheeks and a smile on her lips, her whole\ncountenance beaming with hope, and her eyes fixed with a lingering look\non a Greek who was disappearing from view in a direction opposite to\nthat by which Judas had approached her!  The depths of the leader's\nfeelings were again stirred, but this time as by a bar of glowing\nred-hot iron.\n\n\"Who is yon Gentile?\" was the sudden fierce exclamation which burst\nfrom the warrior's lips.\n\nNever before had her kinsman looked so terrible to Zarah as when he\nstartled her then by his sudden appearance.  It was not because she now\nsaw Maccabeus for the first time arrayed in the harness of battle, his\ntall powerful frame partly sheathed in glittering steel, and a plumed\nhelmet on his head, giving him a resemblance to the description which\nshe had heard from Lycidas of the fabled god of war; it was the eye,\nthe manner, the tone of Judas that changed the smile of the maiden in a\nmoment to a look of embarrassment and fear.  Antiochus himself, on his\njudgment-seat, had scarcely appeared more formidable to the trembling\ncaptive before him, than did the kinsman who had come to welcome her,\nand who would have died to shield her from wrong!\n\nMaccabeus repeated his stern question before Zarah found courage to\nreply.  \"That is Lycidas, the Athenian lord,\" she faltered; \"he whom\nyou spared by the martyrs' tomb.  He has well requited your mercy.  He\nprotected and aided Hadassah to the end, and paid the last honours to\nher dear remains; he struck down the Syrian who slew my father.\nLycidas has embraced the Hebrew faith, and has come to fight, and, if\nneed be, to die in the Hebrew cause!\"\n\nThe maiden spoke rapidly, and with a good deal of nervous excitement.\nShe did not venture to glance up again into the face of her kinsman to\nsee the effect of her explanation, for all the false hopes regarding\nhis indifference with which she had buoyed herself, had vanished like a\nbubble at a touch.  Maccabeus did not at once reply.  Silently he led\nZarah back into the hut, and motioned to her to take her seat upon a\nlow heap of cushions which Anna had removed from the litter, and placed\non the earthen floor for the accommodation of her young mistress.  He\nthen dismissed the attendant by a wave of his hand.  The profound\ngloomy silence of her kinsman was by no means re-assuring to Zarah, who\nfelt much as a criminal might feel in presence of a judge--albeit in\nregard to her conduct towards Lycidas her conscience was clear.\n\nMaccabeus stood before Zarah, the shadow of his form falling upon the\nmaiden, as he towered tween her and the light, gloomily gazing down\nupon her.\n\n\"Zarah,\" he said at last, \"there must be no concealment between us.\nYou know in what relation we stand to each other.  You have told me\nwhat that Gentile has been to Hadassah, and to Abner your father; tell\nme now, What is he to _you_?\"\n\nZarah struggled to regain her courage, though she knew not how deeply\nher evident fear of him wounded the spirit of her kinsman.  She did not\ndare to answer his question directly.  \"Lycidas is not a Gentile,\" she\nsaid; \"he is, as you are, a servant of God, a true believer; he has\nbeen fully admitted into all the privileges held by our race.\"\n\n\"Even the privilege of wedding a Hebrew maiden?\" inquired Maccabeus\nwith slow deliberation.\n\nZarah fancied that his tone was less stern, and was thankful that Judas\nhad been the one to break ground upon so delicate a subject.\n\n\"Hadassah would not have blamed us,\" she said simply, blushing deeply\nas she spoke.\n\nNotwithstanding what had just passed, Zarah was utterly unprepared for\nthe effect of what was in fact an artless confession.  It was not a\ngroan nor a cry that she heard, but a sound that partook of the nature\nof both; a sound that the last turn of the rack could not have forced\nfrom the breast that uttered it now!  It was the expression of an agony\nwhich few hearts have affections strong enough to feel, fewer still\ncould have fortitude to sustain.  No death-wail, no cry of woe, no\nshriek of pain that Zarah had ever listened to, smote on her soul like\nthat sound!  She heard it but once--it was never heard but once--and\nbefore she had recovered from the shock which it gave her, Judas had\nrushed forth from the hut.  He was as one possessed; so fierce were the\ndemons of jealousy and hatred that for a space held reason, conscience,\nevery power of mind and soul in subjection.  One wild desire to kill\nhis rival, to tear him limb from limb, seemed all that had any definite\nform in that fearful chaos of passion.  It was well for Lycidas that he\ndid not then cross the path of the lion!\n\nMaccabeus plunged into the depths of a wood that was near, seeking\ninstinctively the thickest shade afforded by evergreen trees.  He would\nfain have buried his anguish from the sight of man in the darkest\ncavern--in the deepest grave!  The very sunlight was oppressive!\n\nAll lost--all rent away from him for ever!  What hope had clung to,\nwhat love had treasured through the long, long years of waiting, giving\nnew courage to the brave, new energy to the weary!  Youth, happiness,\nthe cup of joy just filled to the brim by the coming of Zarah, without\none moment's warning dashed from the lips of him who loved her, and the\nlast drops sucked up by the thirsty sand!  The miseries of a long life\nseemed to be crowded into the few minutes during which the leader of\nthe Hebrews, the hope of Judah, lay prostrate on the earth, clinching\nthe dust in his despair.\n\nHatred and jealousy raged within; and a yet darker demon had joined\nthem, one whose presence, above all others, makes the soul as a hell!\nLike burning venom-drops fell the suggestions of rebellious unbelief\nupon the spirit of the disappointed man.  \"Is it for this that you have\nwashed your hands in innocency, and kept your feet in the paths of\ntruth?  Is it for this that you have devoted all your powers to God and\nyour country, have shrunk from no toil, and dreaded no danger?  He whom\nyou were faithfully serving hath not watched over your peace, nor\nguarded for you that treasure which you had confided to his care.  What\nprofit is there in obedience, what benefit in devotion?  Prayer has\nbeen but vanity, and faith but self-deception!\"\n\nSuch moments as these are the most terrible in the experience of a\nservant of the Lord.  They afford a glimpse of the depths of guilt and\nmisery to which the noblest human soul would sink without sustaining\ngrace; they show that, like the brightest planet, such soul shines not\nwith light of its own, but with an imparted radiance, deprived of which\nit would be enveloped in utter darkness.  An Abraham, left to himself,\ncould lie; a David stain his soul with innocent blood.  All need the\nSacrifice of Atonement, all require the grace which comes from above.\n\nBut Judas Maccabeus was not left unaided to be carried away to an abyss\nof crime by his own wild passions.  They were as a steed accustomed to\nobey the rein of conscience, that, smitten with agonizing pain, has\ntaken the bit into its teeth, and rushed madly towards a precipice.\nBut the hand of its rider still grasps the bridle, his eye sees the\ndanger in front, and the frantic animal beneath him has but for a brief\nspace burst from his master's powerful constraint.  If the rider cannot\notherwise stop his wild steed, he will strike it down with a heavy\nblow, that by a lesser fall the greater may be avoided; and so he leads\nit back to its starting-place, quivering, trembling in every limb, the\nsweat on its flanks, the foam on its bit, but subdued, submissive,\nunder command.  Even so with the Hebrew chief, conscience regained its\nhabitual sway over the passions; as soon as the anguish of his soul\nfound vent in prayer, the crisis of danger was past.  Maccabeus rose\nfrom the earth, pale as one who has received a death-wound, but\nsubmissive and calm.\n\n\"Shall one who has been so favoured, beyond his hopes, far beyond his\ndeserts, dare to repine at the decree of Him who orders all things in\nwisdom and goodness?\"  Thus reflected the chief.  \"Who am I, that I\nshould claim exemption from disappointment and loss?  Shame on the\nleader who gives way to selfish passion, and at such a time as this!\nWe shall shortly close in battle; and if in that battle I fall\" (the\nthought brought strange consolation), \"how shall I look back from the\nworld of spirits on that which for a time could almost shake the trust\nof this unworthy heart in the God of my fathers?  If I survive the\nperils of the day, better it is that there should be no selfish hopes,\nno selfish cares, to prevent me from concentrating all my energies and\nthoughts upon the work appointed me to do.  I have been wasting my time\nin idle dreams of earthly enjoyment; I have been rudely awakened.  O\nLord of hosts, strengthen Thy servant to arise and gird up his spirit\nto perform fearlessly and faithfully the duties of the day!\"\n\nThen, with slower step and calmer aspect, Judas Maccabeus returned to\nhis camp.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXIV.\n\nFANATICISM.\n\nWe will now glance at the encampment of the Hebrew warriors, upon a\nwild expanse of undulating ground, in view of the towers of Bethsura, a\nstrong fortress rebuilt by the Edomite settlers on the site of that\nraised in former times by Rehoboam.  Bethsura is now garrisoned by the\nSyrians, and its environs occupied by the countless tents of their\nmighty host.\n\nOn a small rising ground near the centre of the Hebrew camp stands, as\non a rostrum, an old Jew clad in a camel-hair garment, with long gray\nunkempt hair hanging over his shoulders.  His manner is excited, his\ngestures vehement, and the shrill accents of his voice are so raised as\nto be heard to a considerable distance.  A gradually increasing circle\nof listeners gathers around him--stern, weather-beaten men, who have\ntoiled and suffered much for their faith.  What marvel if with some of\nthese warriors religion have darkened into fanaticism, courage\ndegenerated into savage fierceness?  It is the tendency of war,\nespecially if it be of a guerrilla character, to inflame the passions\nand harden the heart.  Only terrible necessity can justify the\nunnatural strife which arms man against his brother man.  Even the most\nnoble struggle in which patriot can engage in defence of his country's\nfreedom, draws along with it terrible evils, of which a vast amount of\nhuman suffering is not perhaps the greatest.\n\n\"Yea, I do charge you, Joab, I do charge you, O son of Ahijah, with\nhaving brought a spy, a traitor, into our camp!\" almost shrieked the\nwild orator Jasher, as he pointed with his shrivelled finger at the\nsturdy muleteer, who stood in the innermost rank of the circle.  \"Was\nnot this Greek, by your own showing, present at the martyrdom of the\nblessed saint Solomona?--was he not tried for his life at her grave,\nwhere he was discovered coiling like a serpent in the darkness?--is he\nnot one of a race of idolaters, worshippers of images made by man's\nhand?\"\n\n\"All that I can say,\" replied Joab, doggedly, \"is, that whatever\nLycidas may have been, he is not an idolater now.\"\n\n\"Who are you that you should judge, you Nabal, you son of folly?\"\nexclaimed the excited orator.  \"Mark you, men of Judah, mark you the\nblindness that falls on some men--ay, even on a reputed saint like the\nLady Hadassah!  Joab has learned from her handmaiden the astounding\nfact that for months this Lycidas, this viper, was nurtured and tended\nin her home, as if he had been a son of Abraham!  Doubtless it was this\nact of worse than folly on the part of Hadassah that drew down a\njudgment on her and her house.  Mark what followed.  The warmed viper\nescapes from her dwelling, and the next day--ay, the very next\nday--Syrian dogs beset the house of Salathiel as he celebrates the holy\nFeast!  Who guided them thither?\"  The question was asked with\npassionate energy, and the feelings of the speaker were evidently\nbeginning to communicate themselves to the audience.  \"Who then lay a\nbleeding corpse on the threshold, slain by the murderous Syrians?\"\ncontinued Jasher, with yet fiercer action; \"who but Abishai, the brave,\nthe faithful, he who had denounced the viper, and had sought, but in\nvain, to crush it--it was he who fell at last a victim to its\ntreacherous sting!\"  Jasher ended his peroration with a hissing sound\nfrom between his clinched teeth, and the caldron of human feelings\naround him began, as it were, to seethe and boil.  Fanaticism stops not\nto weigh evidence, or to listen to reason.  Joab could hardly make his\nvoice heard amidst the roar of angry voices that was rising around him.\n\n\"Lycidas was present and helped at the burial of the Lady Hadassah; he\nhas risked his life to protect her daughter,\" cried the honest defender\nof the Greek.\n\n\"Ha! ha! how much he risked we know not, but we can well guess what he\nwould win!\" exclaimed Jasher, with a look of withering scorn.  \"He has\ncrept into the favour of a foolish girl, who forgets the traditions of\nher people, who cares not for the afflictions of Jacob, who prefers a\ngoodly person\"--the old man's features writhed with the fierceness of\nhis satire--\"to all that a child of Abraham should regard with\nreverence and honour!  But what can we expect from the daughter of a\nperjured traitor, an apostate?  Had she not Abner for a father, and can\nwe expect otherwise than that she should disgrace her family, her\ntribe, her nation, by wedding an accursed Gentile, a detestable Greek?\"\n\n\"Never! never!\" yelled out a hundred fierce voices.  And one of the\ncrowd shouted aloud, \"I would rather slay her with my own hand, were\nshe my own daughter!\"\n\n\"I cannot believe Lycidas false!\" cried out Joab, at the risk of\ndrawing the tempest of rage upon himself.\n\n\"You cannot believe him false, you son of the nether millstone!\"\nscreamed out the furious Jasher, stamping with passion; \"as if you were\na match for a wily Greek, born in that idolatrous, base, ungrateful\nAthens, that banished her only good citizen, and poisoned her only wise\none!\"  The fierce prejudices of race were only too easily aroused in\nthat assembly of Hebrew warriors, and if Jasher were blamed by some of\nhis auditors, it was for allowing that any Athenian could be either\nwise or good.\n\n\"Yet hear me for a moment--I must be heard,\" cried Joab, straining his\nvoice to its loudest pitch, yet scarcely able to make his words\naudible; \"Lycidas has been admitted into the Covenant by our priests;\nhe can give proofs--\"\n\n\"Who talks of proofs?\" exclaimed Jasher, stamping again on the earth.\n\"Did you never hear of the proofs given by Zopyrus?  Know you not how\nBabylon, the golden city, fell under the sword of Darius?  Zopyrus,\nminion of that king, fled to the city which he was besieging, showed\nits defenders his ghastly hurts--nose, ears shorn off--and pointed to\nthe bleeding wounds as _proofs_ that Darius the tyrant, by inflicting\nsuch injuries upon him, had won a right to his deathless hatred.[1]\nThe Babylonians believed the proofs, they received the impostor, and ye\nknow the result.  Babylon fell, not because the courage of her\ndefenders quailed, or famine thinned their numbers; not because the\nenemy stormed at her wall, or pestilence raged within it; but because\nshe had received, and believed, and trusted a traitor, who had\nsacrificed his own members to gain the opportunity of destroying those\nwho put faith in his honour!  Hebrews! a Zopyrus has now come into our\ncamp!  Will ye open your arms, or draw your swords, to receive him?\"\n\nA wild yell of fury arose from the listening throng, so fierce, so\nloud, that it drew towards the spot Hebrews from all parts of the\nencampment.  It drew amongst others the young proselyte, who came eager\nto know the cause of the noise and excitement, quite unconscious that\nit was in any way connected with himself.  As Lycidas made towards the\ncentre of the crowd, it divided to let him pass into the immediate\npresence of Jasher, his accuser and self-constituted judge, and then\nominously closed in behind him, so as to prevent the possibility of his\nretreat.\n\nLycidas had come amongst the Hebrew warriors with all the frank\nconfidence of a volunteer into their ranks; and the Greek's first\nemotion was that of amazement, when he found himself suddenly the\nobject of universal indignation and hatred.  There was no mistaking the\nexpression of the angry eyes that glared upon him from every direction,\nnor the gestures of hands raising javelins on high, or unsheathing keen\nglittering blades.\n\n\"Here he is, the traitor, the Gentile, led hither to die the death he\ndeserves!\" exclaimed Jasher.\n\n\"What mean ye, Hebrews--friends?  Slay me not unheard!\" cried Lycidas,\nraising on high his voice and his hand.  \"I am a proselyte; I renounce\nmy false gods,--\"\n\n\"He has their very effigies on his arm!\" yelled out Jasher, pointing\nwith frenzied action to the silver bracelet of Pollux worn by the\nGreek, on which had been fashioned heads of Apollo and Diana encircled\nwith rays.\n\nHere was evidence deemed conclusive; nothing further was needed.  \"He\ndies! he dies!\" was the almost unanimous cry.  The life of Lycidas had\nnot been in greater peril when he had been discovered at the midnight\nburial, or when he had wrestled with Abishai on the edge of the cliff.\nIn a few moments the young Greek would have lain a shapeless trampled\ncorpse beneath his murderers' feet, when the one word \"Forbear!\"\nuttered in a loud, clear voice whose tones of command had been heard\nabove the din of battle, stayed hands uplifted to destroy; and with the\nexclamation, \"Maccabeus! the prince!\" the throng fell back on either\nside, and through the ranks of his followers the leader strode into the\ncentre of the circle.  One glance sufficed to inform him sufficiently\nof the nature of the disturbance; he saw that he had arrived on the\nspot barely in time to save his Athenian rival from being torn in\npieces by the crowd.\n\n\"What means this tumult? shame on ye!\" exclaimed Maccabeus, sternly\nsurveying the excited throng.\n\n\"We would execute righteous judgment on a Greek--an idolater--a spy!\"\ncried Jasher, pointing at Lycidas, but with less impassioned gesture;\nfor the fanatic quailed in the presence of Maccabeus, who was the one\nman on earth whom he feared.\n\n\"He is a Greek, but neither idolater nor spy,\" said the prince.  \"He is\none of a gallant people who fought bravely for their own independence,\nand can sympathize with our love of freedom.  He has come to offer us\nthe aid of his arm; shame on ye thus to requite him.\"\n\n\"I doubt but he will play us false,\" muttered one of the warriors,\ngiving voice to the thoughts of the rest.\n\n\"We shall soon have an opportunity of settling all such doubts,\" said\nMaccabeus; \"we shall attack the enemy at noon, and then shall this\nGreek prove in the battle whether he be false man or true.\"\n\nThe prospect of so soon closing with the enemy was sufficient to turn\nthe attention of every Hebrew warrior present to something of more\nstirring interest than the fate of a solitary stranger.  Jasher,\nhowever, would not so easily let his intended victim go free.\n\n\"He's an Achan!\" exclaimed the fanatic; \"if he fight amongst us, he\nwill bring a curse on our arms!\"\n\n\"He is a proselyte,\" replied Maccabeus in a loud voice, which was heard\nto the farthest edge of the crowd; \"our priests and elders have\nreceived him--and I receive him--as a Hebrew by adoption, companion in\narms, a brother in the faith!\"\n\nThe words of the prince were received with respectful submission, if\nnot with satisfaction.  Maccabeus was regarded with enthusiasm by his\nfollowers, not only as a gallant and successful leader, but as one\nwhose prudence they could trust, and whose piety they must honour.  No\nman dare lay a finger upon him over whom the chief had thrown the\nshield of his powerful protection.\n\nLycidas felt that for the second time he owed his life to Judas\nMaccabeus.  There was a gush of warm gratitude towards his preserver in\nthe heart of the young Athenian; but something in the manner of the\nprince told Lycidas that he would not listen to thanks, that the\nexpression of the Greek's sense of deep obligation would be regarded as\nan intrusion.  Lycidas therefore, compelled, as it were, to silence,\ncould only with fervour ask Heaven for an opportunity of showing his\ngratitude in the coming fight by actions more forcible than words.\n\n\"Now, sound the trumpets to arms,\" exclaimed Maccabeus, \"and gather my\ntroops together.  If God give us the victory to-day, the way to\nJerusalem itself will be open before us!  Here will I marshal our ranks\nfor the fight.\"  Maccabeus strode to the summit of the rising ground\nfrom which Jasher had just been addressing the crowd, and beckoned to\nhis standard-bearer to plant his banner behind him, where it could be\nseen from all parts of the camp.  Here, with folded arms, Maccabeus\nwatched the movements of his warriors as, at the signal-call of the\ntrumpet-blast, they hastened from every quarter to be marshalled in\nbattle-array, by their respective captains, under the eye of their\ngreat commander.  With rapid precision the columns were formed; but\nbefore they moved on to the attack, Maccabeus, in brief but earnest\nsupplication, besought the Divine blessing on their arms.\n\n\n\n[1] The student of history need not be reminded that the fall of\nBabylon through the stratagem of Zopyrus was quite distinct from and\nsubsequent to its conquest by Cyrus.  (See Rollins's \"Ancient History.\")\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXV.\n\nTHE BATTLE-PRAYER.\n\nLycidas was a native of the very land of eloquence; he had been, as it\nwere, cradled amidst \"thoughts that breathe, and words that burn.\"  He\nhad studied the philippics of Demosthenes, and felt the spirit of the\ndead orator living in them still.  Lycidas had listened to the\neloquence of the most gifted speakers of his own time, expressing in\nthe magnificent language of Greece thoughts the most poetic.  He had\nexperienced the power possessed by the orator on the rostrum, the\ntragedian on the stage, the poet in the arena, to stir the passions,\nsubdue by pathos, or excite by vehement action.  But never had the\nAthenian listened to any oration which had so stirred his own soul, as\nthe simple prayer of Judas Maccabeus before the battle of Bethsura.\nThere was no eloquence in it, save the unstudied eloquence of the\nheart; the Hebrew but uttered aloud in the hearing of his men the\nthoughts which had made his own spirit as firm in the hour of danger as\nwas the steel which covered his breast.\n\nThere was much in the scene and in the congregation to add to the\neffect of the act of worship on the mind of Lycidas.  He beheld\nadoration paid to no image formed by man's art, no fabled deity,\ncapricious as the minds of those in whose imaginations alone he had\nexistence, but to the holy, the high and lofty One who inhabiteth\neternity, \"whose robe is the light, and whose canopy space.\"  And it\nwas in no building raised by mortal hands that Maccabeus bent his knee\nto the Lord of Hosts.  He knelt on the soil of the glorious land which\nGod had given to his fathers--the one spot chosen out from the expanse\nof the whole mighty globe to be the scene of events which would\ninfluence through eternity the destinies of the world!  On the verge of\nthe southern horizon lay Hebron, where had dwelt the father of the\nfaithful, where the ground had been trodden by angels' feet, and the\nfeet of the Lord of angels, with whom Abraham had pleaded for Sodom.\nIt was that Hebron where David had reigned ere he was hailed king over\nall Israel.  And the nearer objects were such as gave thrilling\ninterest to the prayer of the Asmonean prince: the view of the towers\nof Bethsura which he was about to assail, the hosts of the enemy whom\nhe--with far inferior numbers--was going to attack; this, perhaps, even\nmore than associations connected with the past, made every word of\nMaccabeus fall with powerful effect on his audience.\n\nAnd that audience was in itself, probably, the noblest that could at\nthat time have been gathered together in any laud, not excepting Italy\nor Greece.  It was composed of men whom neither ambition nor the lust\nof gold had drawn from their homes to oppose an enemy whose force\ngreatly exceeded their own.  In face of the trained warriors of Syria\nwere gathered together peasants, artizans, shepherds, animated by the\npurest patriotism, and the most simple faith in God.  Every man in that\nkneeling army knew that he carried his life in his hand, that in case\nof defeat he had no mercy to expect, and that victory scarce lay within\nthe verge of probability according to human calculation; yet not a\ncountenance showed anything but undaunted courage, eager hope, firm\nfaith, as the weather-beaten, toil-worn Hebrews listened to and joined\nin the supplications of their leader.\n\nBut it was the character of that leader himself which gave the chief\nforce to his words.  If Maccabeus the Asmonean received the lofty title\nof \"Prince of the sons of God,\" it was because his countrymen\nacknowledged, and that without envy, the stamp of a native royalty upon\nhim, which needed not the anointing oil or the golden crown to add to\nits dignity.  Any nation with pride might have numbered amongst its\nheroes a man possessing the military talents of a Miltiades, with the\npurity of an Aristides; one whose character was without reproach, whose\nfame was unstained with a blot.  Simple, earnest faith was the\nmainspring of the actions of Maccabeus.  The clear, piercing gaze of\nthe eagle, energy like that with which the strong wing of the royal\nbird cleaves the air, marked the noble Asmonean; for the soul's gaze\nwas upward toward its Sun, and the soul's pinion soared high above the\npetty interests, the paltry ambition of earth.  As there was dignity in\nthe single-mindedness of the character of Judas, so was there power in\nthe very simplicity of his words.  I will mar that simplicity by no\ninterpolations of my own, but transfer unaltered to my pages the\nAsmonean's battle-prayer.\n\n\"Blessed art Thou, O Saviour of Israel, who didst quell the violence of\nthe mighty man by the hand of Thy servant David, and gavest the host of\nstrangers into the hand of Jonathan, the son of Saul, and his\narmour-bearer!  Shut up this army in the hand of Thy people Israel, and\nlet them be confounded in their power and horsemen; make them to be of\nno courage, and cause the boldness of their strength to fall away, and\nlet them quake in their destruction.  Cast them down with the sword of\nthem that love Thee, and let all those that know Thy Name praise Thee\nwith thanksgiving!\"\n\nWhen the tones of the leader's voice were silent, there was for a\nmoment a solemn stillness throughout the martial throng; then from\ntheir knees arose the brave sons of Abraham, prepared to \"do or die.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXVI.\n\nBETHSURA.\n\nHer brief but momentous interview with Maccabeus had left a very\npainful impression upon the mind of Zarah.  It had disclosed, to her\ndistress as well as surprise, the depth of the wound which she was\ninflicting upon a loving heart; for Zarah had none of that miserable\nvanity which makes the meaner of her sex triumph in their power of\ngiving pain.  Zarah's apprehensions were also awakened on account of\nLycidas; she could not but fear that very serious obstacles might arise\nto prevent her union with the Greek.  Generous as Maccabeus might be,\nit was not in human nature that he should favour the claims of a rival;\nand determined opposition from her kinsman and prince must be\nannihilation to the hopes of the maiden.  There would be in many Jewish\nminds prejudices against an Athenian; Zarah was aware of this, though\nnot of the intense hatred to which such prejudices might lead.  The\nshort interview held with Maccabeus had sufficed to cover Zarah's\nbright sky with clouds, to darken her hopes, to distress her\nconscience, to make her uneasily question herself as to whether she\nwere indeed erring by giving her heart to a stranger.  Had she really\nspoken truth when she had said, \"Hadassah would not have blamed us?\"\n\nBut when Anna, pale with excitement, brought tidings to her young\nmistress that the Hebrews were marching to battle, when Zarah heard\nthat the decisive hour had come on which hung the fate of her country,\nand with it that of Lycidas, all other fears yielded for a time to one\nabsorbing terror.  On her knees, with hands clasped in attitude of\nprayer, yet scarcely able to pray, Zarah listened breathlessly to the\nfearful sounds which were borne on the breeze--the confused noises, the\nyells, the shouting--which brought vividly to her mind all the horrors\nof the scene passing so near her.  It was not needful for her to look\non the raging torrent of war; imagination but too readily pictured the\nstreams of opposing warriors, like floods from opposite mountains,\nmingling and struggling together in a wild whirlpool of death; chariots\ndragged by maddened horses over gory heaps of the slain--the flight of\nhurtling arrows--the whirl of the deadly axe--the crash--the cry--the\nrush--the retreat--the rally--the flashing weapons, now dimmed with\nblood;--Zarah in thought beheld them all, and covered her eyes with\nhorror, as if by so doing she could shut out the sight.\n\nFor hours this agony lasted.  The excitement of conflict may bear brave\nhearts through a battle with little sense of horror and none of fear;\nwarriors, even the generous and humane, can see and do things in hot\nblood, from which their souls would revolt in calmer moments; but the\nwoman whose earthly happiness is on the cast of the die, who cannot\nshield the being dearest to her upon earth from the crushing blow or\nthe deadly thrust, to her the day of battle is one of unmixed anguish;\nsuspense is agony, and yet she dreads to exchange that suspense for\nknowledge which might bring agony more intolerable still.\n\nThe maiden found some slight alleviation of her distress in the\noccupation in which she and her handmaid engaged, that of making such\npreparations as circumstances permitted for the comfort of the wounded,\nthough they knew too well that if the Syrians should win the day, there\nwould be no wounded Hebrews to tend--the conqueror's sword would too\nthoroughly do its hideous work.\n\nJudas Maccabeus had displayed his accustomed judgment in choosing to be\nhimself the assailant, instead of awaiting the assault of the myrmidons\nof Syria.  His sudden, unexpected attack threw the enemy into some\nconfusion, and gave an advantage in the commencement of the battle to\nthe slender forces of the Hebrew prince.  His men rushed to the\nconflict as those assured of success.  Had they not measured swords\nwith the warriors of Apollonius and Seron, and more recently those of\nBacchides?  Had they not scattered the thousands of Nicanor, and made\nGiorgias seek safety in ignominious retreat?  Was not Maccabeus their\nleader, and saw they not the light flashing from his helmet in the\nfore-front of the battle?  Yet was the struggle obstinate; and when the\nSyrians were at last forced to retire before the Hebrew heroes, a\nnumber of the troops of Lysias threw themselves into the fortress of\nBethsura, to rally their forces behind its walls, and gather strength\nto renew the combat on the following day.\n\nBut it was no part of the plan of their active adversary to leave such\na rallying-point to the Syrians, or suffer them from thence to harass\nhis rear, should he press onwards towards Jerusalem.  His victory must\nnot be incomplete, Bethsura must be his ere darkness should put an end\nto the conflict.\n\n\"See you yon Syrian banner waving from the tower,\" cried\nMaccabeus,--\"who will be the first to tear it down?\"\n\nHe was answered by a shout from his men.  \"To the walls! to the walls!\"\nas the Hebrews pressed hard upon their retreating foes.\n\nBethsura was not a place of much strength, though the height of its\ntowers gave to their defenders the power to annoy and distress\nassailants with a shower of arrows and other missiles as they rushed to\nthe assault.  Maccabeus, foreseeing that Bethsura itself must become\nthe scene of the closing struggle, had had scaling-ladders in\nreadiness, roughly constructed by his own men from trees hewn down by\ntheir battle-axes.  With cries and shouts these were now borne onwards\ntowards the bulwarks of Bethsura, and notwithstanding the fierce\nopposition of the Syrians, two of them were planted against the wall.\nWho would mount them, who would be the first to climb upwards through\nthe death-shower of darts, the first to meet the fierce downward blows\nand thrusts of those who stood to the defence of the beleaguered\nfortress?\n\nLycidas had borne himself bravely in the battle, he had well maintained\nthe honour of the land that had withstood the gigantic power of Xerxes;\nnow his foot was the first on one of the ladders.  It was a perilous\nmoment.  The rough spar, with branches fastened transversely at\nintervals across it, on which Lycidas was mounting (for the ladder was\nlittle more than this), swayed backwards and forwards with the struggle\nbetween those above to fling it down, and those below to sustain it,\nand it was with extreme difficulty that the climber could keep his\nfooting.  Stones and arrows rattled on the shield which the young Greek\nheld with one arm above his head, as he used the other in climbing; but\nLycidas neither flinched nor paused.\n\n\"Well done--bravely done!\" shouted the Hebrews who were rushing on from\nbehind.\n\n\"He is no Gentile, though he be a Greek!\" cried the wild shrill voice\nof Jasher; \"onwards, upwards, warriors of Judah! one struggle more, and\nBethsura is ours!\"\n\nAlmost at the top of the ladder, almost close to the wall, gasping,\nstraining, bleeding, struggles on the young Greek.  A stone strikes his\nshield, smashes it, stuns, disables the left arm which upheld it; slain\nby a dart, the Hebrew just behind him falls crashing from the ladder!\nThe brain of Lycidas is dizzy, his ears are filled with wild clamour,\nhe is conscious only that honour and most probably death are before\nhim, still he mounts, he mounts!  Two powerful Syrians have seized the\nupper end of the ladder; with an effort of gigantic strength they\nthrust it back from the supporting wall with its living burden of\nclambering men, all but one, the foremost!  Lycidas feels the ladder\nbeneath him failing, with a tremendous effort of agility he springs as\nit falls at the wall, catches hold of it with his right hand, and\nflings himself up on the parapet.  But not one moment's breathing-space\nis given him to start to his feet, or grasp the sword which he has\ncarried hung round his neck.  He cannot rise, he cannot resist; swords\nare gleaming above him; those who have thrown down the ladder seize the\nGreek to hurl him after it!  A thought of Zarah flashes across the\nreeling brain of the young man, is it not his last?--no, a broad shield\nis suddenly thrust between Lycidas and his assailants, they shrink back\nfrom the sweep of a terrible sword; up the other ladder the strong and\nbrave have pressed with irresistible force; Judas Maccabeus himself has\nplanted his foot on the bulwarks, has driven back step by step their\ndefenders before him, and has arrived at this crisis in the fate of\nLycidas to preserve for the third time the life of his rival!\n\nThe banner of Maccabeus is planted on the highest tower of Bethsura,\nand as it waves in the light of the evening sun, such a loud wild shout\nof triumph rises from the victors, as might be heard for miles around!\nIt reaches Zarah in her hut, and sends a thrill of hope and exultation\nthrough her heart, for she knows the shout of her people, and none but\nconquerors could have rent the air with such a cheer as that!  It is\nfollowed by the cry \"Jerusalem, Jerusalem!\" as from the Hebrew heroes,\nin that their hour of success, bursts that name of all earthly names\nmost dear to the sons of Israel!  Jerusalem, their mother, will be\nfree, her liberty from a galling yoke will be the crowning reward of\ntheir labours and perils, no foe will now dare to oppose the\nconqueror's onward march towards the holy city.\n\nMaccabeus joins in the shout, and shares in the exultation; he tramples\nhis own private griefs under his feet, that they may cast no gloom over\nthe triumph which God has vouchsafed to the arms of his people.  The\nprince raises his helmed head and his victorious right arm towards\nheaven, and cries aloud, not with pride, but with glad thanksgiving,\n\"Behold! our enemies are discomfited!  Let us go up to cleanse and\ndedicate the sanctuary of Zion!\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXVII.\n\nAFTER THE BATTLE.\n\nThere are joys as well as sorrows into which the stranger cannot enter,\nand which baffle the attempt of the pen to describe; such was that of\nLycidas and Zarah when they first met after the battle of Bethsura.\nThe maiden had her happiness tempered indeed with something of anxiety\nand even alarm, for she beheld the young Greek pale with loss of blood,\nexhausted by excessive fatigue, and with his left arm in a sling, but\nher mind was soon relieved, for Lycidas had sustained no serious or\npermanent injury.  The young proselyte was rather glad than otherwise\nto carry on his person some token of his having fought under Judas\nMaccabeus, and been one of the foremost of those who had stormed\nBethsura.\n\nWith Zarah and her attendant for his deeply interested listeners,\nLycidas gave a graphic and vivid description of the fight.  Zarah held\nher breath and trembled when the narrator came to that thrilling part\nof his account which described his own position of imminent peril, when\nhe would have been precipitated from the top of the wall, had not Judas\nMaccabeus come to his rescue.\n\n\"I deemed that all was over with me,\" said Lycidas, \"when the prince\nsuddenly flashed on my sight!  Had I not long since given to the winds\nthe idle fables that I heard in my childhood, I should have deemed that\nMars himself, radiant in his celestial panoply, had burst from the\ncloud of war.  But the hero of Israel needs no borrowed lustre to be\nthrown around him by the imagination of a poet, he realizes the noblest\nconception of Homer.\"\n\n\"And Maccabeus was the one to save and defend you! generous, noble!\"\nmurmured Zarah.\n\n\"Ay, it seems destined that I should be overwhelmed with an\never-growing debt of obligation,\" cried Lycidas, playfully throwing a\nveil of discontent over the gratitude and admiration which he felt\ntowards his preserver.  \"I would that it had been my part to play the\nrescuer; that it had been _my_ sword that had shielded his head; and\nthat Maccabeus were not fated to eclipse me in everything, even in the\npower of showing generosity to a rival But I must not grudge him the\nharvest of laurels,\" added the young Athenian, with a joyous glance at\nZarah, \"since the garland of happiness has been awarded to me.\"\n\nOn the morning after the battle of Bethsura, Simon and Eleazar, the\nAsmoneans, both visited their youthful kinswoman in the goat-herd's\nhut, where she and Anna had remained during the night.  They regarded\nher still as their future sister, and offered her their escort to the\nhouse of Rachel, which was at no great distance from the fortress of\nBethsura.  As Zarah desired as soon as possible to place herself under\nthe protection of a female relative, she gladly accepted the offer.\nThe horse-litter was brought to the door of the lowly hut; and with the\ncurtains closely drawn, the maiden and her attendant proceeded to the\ndwelling of old Rachel, who joyfully welcomed the child of Hadassah.\nZarah, on that morning, saw nothing of Lycidas, and Judas Maccabeus\navoided approaching her presence.  The chief could not trust himself to\nlook on that sweet face again.\n\nThrough the Hebrew camp all was bustle and preparation.  Tents were\nstruck--all was made ready for the coming march to Jerusalem; the tired\nwarriors forgot their weariness, and the wounded their pain, so eager\nwere all to gather the rich fruits of their victory within the walls of\nZion.\n\nBut amidst all the excitement and confusion, with so many cares\npressing upon him from every side, the mind of the prince dwelt much\nupon Zarah.  He felt that she was lost to him--he would have scorned to\nhave claimed her hand when he knew that her heart was another's; but he\nresolved at least to act the part of a brother towards the orphan\nmaiden.  Painful to Maccabeus as was the sight of his successful rival,\nthe chief determined to have an interview with Lycidas, that he might\njudge for himself whether the stranger were indeed worthy to win a\nHebrew bride.  Lycidas had proved himself to be a brave warrior--he had\nwon the admiration even of the fanatic Jasher; but would the Greek\nstand firm in his newly-adopted faith when fresh laurels were no longer\nto be won, or fair prize gained by adhesion to it?\n\n\"The most remote hope of winning Zarah,\" mused Maccabeus, \"were enough\nto make a man espouse the cause of her people, and renounce all\nidolatry--save idolatry of herself.  I must question this Athenian\nmyself.  I must examine whether he have embraced the truth\nindependently of earthly motives, and, as a true believer, can indeed\nbe trusted with the most priceless of gems.  If it be so, let him be\nhappy, since her happiness is linked with his.  Never will I darken the\nsunshine of her path with the shadow which will now rest for ever upon\nmine.\"\n\nIt was with no small anxiety that Lycidas obeyed the summons of the\nprince, and entered his presence alone, in one of the apartments of the\nfortress which he had aided to capture.  The Greek could not but\nconjecture that his fate, as regarded his union with Zarah, might hang\non the result of this interview with his formidable rival.\n\nThe interview was not a long one: what occurred in it never transpired.\nNot even to Zarah did Lycidas ever repeat the conversation between\nhimself and the man whose earthly happiness he had wrecked.  As the\nGreek passed forth from the presence of Maccabeus, he met Simon and\nEleazar, who had just returned from escorting their young kinswoman to\nthe dwelling of Rachel.\n\nThe Asmonean brothers frankly and cordially greeted the stranger whom\nthey had seen for the first time in the thick of the conflict of the\npreceding day.  The bandage round his temples, the sling which\nsupported his left arm, were as credentials which the Athenian carried\nwith him--a passport to the favour and confidence of his new associates\nin the field.\n\n\"You have leaped into fame with one bound, fair Greek!\" cried Eleazar.\n\"You had reached the highest round of the ladder ere I could plant my\nfoot on the lowest.  I could fain envy you the honour you have won.\"\n\nEleazar, accompanied by Simon, then passed on into the presence of\nMaccabeus, while Lycidas pursued his way.  The smile with which the\nyoung Hebrew had spoken was still on his lips when he entered the\napartment in which the prince sat alone, but the first glance of\nEleazar at Judas banished every trace of that smile.\n\n\"You are ill!\" he exclaimed anxiously, as he looked on the almost\nghastly countenance of his brother; \"you have received some deadly\nhurt!\"\n\nThe chief replied in the negative by a slight movement of the head.\n\n\"The weight of responsibility, the lack of sleep, the exhaustion of\nyesterday's conflict, are sapping your strength,\" observed Simon\ngravely.  \"Judas, you are unfit to encounter the toils of the long\nmarch now before us.\"\n\n\"I was never more ready--never more impatient for a march,\" said\nMaccabeus, rising abruptly, for it seemed to him as if violent physical\nexertions alone could render life endurable.\n\n\"I marvel,\" said Eleazar, \"if our graceful young proselyte will bear\nhardships as bravely as he has proved that he can encounter danger.\nMethinks he shows amongst our grim warriors as a marble column from\nSolomon's palace amongst the rough oaks that clothe the hill-side.  If\nLycidas is to be--\"\n\n\"He is to be--the husband of Zarah,\" interrupted Maccabeus.  His voice\nsounded strange and harsh, and he turned away his face as he spoke.\n\n\"The husband of Zarah!\" re-echoed Eleazar in amazement; \"why\"--Simon's\nwarning pressure on the young man's arm prevented his uttering more.\nThe brothers exchanged significant glances.  That was the last time\nthat the name of Zarah was ever breathed by either of them in the\nhearing of Maccabeus.\n\nZarah found that her residence in her new home would be but a brief\none, and that she was likely to return to Jerusalem far sooner than she\ncould have anticipated when she had set out on her night journey so\nshort a time before.  Rachel--a woman who, though well stricken in\nyears, had lost none of the energy and enthusiasm of youth--was filled\nwith triumphant joy at the victory of Bethsura, and declared to Zarah\nher intention of starting for the city in advance of the army.\n\n\"I have a vow upon me--a solemn vow,\" said the old Jewess to the\nmaiden.  \"Long have I mourned over the desolation of Zion; and I have\npromised to the Lord that if ever holy sacrifices should again be\noffered up in the Temple at Jerusalem, my heifer, my fair white heifer,\nshould be the first peace-offering.  I have vowed also to go up myself\nto the holy city, and make there with my own hands wafers anointed with\noil, to eat with the sacrifice of thanksgiving.  The time for keeping\nmy vow has arrived.  We will go up together, my daughter, and my\nbondsman shall drive the white heifer before us.  My soul cannot depart\nin peace till I have looked upon the sanctuary in which my ancestors\nworshipped, and with a thankful heart have performed this my vow to the\nLord.\"\n\nZarah made no opposition to the wishes of her relative, which, indeed,\ncoincided with her own.  Arrangements for the proposed journey were\nspeedily made.  The horse-litter in which Zarah had travelled to\nBethsura would avail for the accommodation of both the ladies on her\nreturn to the city.  The faithful Joab would resume his office of\nattendant, and Anna join company with the handmaidens of Rachel.  It\nwas under joyful auspices that the travellers would set forth on their\nway to the city of David.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXVIII.\n\nTHE VICTOR'S RETURN.\n\nIs there a more glorious, a more soul-stirring sight than that of a\nbrave nation bursting from foreign bondage, casting from her the chains\nthat bound and the sackcloth that covered her, rising victorious and\nfree--free to worship the one God in purity and truth?  Even so, when\nthe shadow of the eclipse is over, the moon bursts forth into\nbrightness, to shine again in beauty in the firmament of heaven.\n\nIt was thus with Jerusalem when Maccabeus and his followers went up to\nthe holy city which they had delivered, through God's blessing on their\narms.  The town was in a delirium of joy, which there was now no need\nto conceal.  The voice of thanksgiving and rejoicing was heard in every\nstreet; women wept for very happiness; and while the younger\ninhabitants made the walls ring with their shouts, the old men blessed\nGod that they had been spared to see such a day.  The advanced season\nforbade any profusion of flowers; but on every side palm branches were\nwaving, doors and windows were decked with evergreens, and goodly\nboughs were strewed in the way.  Every trace of heathenism was eagerly\ndestroyed in the streets, and the very children fiercely trampled under\nfoot the fragments of idol or altar.\n\nAgain was the song of Miriam heard, \"Sing ye unto the Lord, for He hath\ntriumphed gloriously;\" and women went forth with timbrels to welcome\nthe warriors of Judah.  Though it was the month of Casleu,[1] the sun\nshone with cheerful radiance and warmth, as if Nature herself shared in\nthe general rejoicing.\n\nUp Mount Zion they come, the brave, the true, the devout; they who\nthrough much tribulation have kept the faith; they who have never bowed\nthe knee to idol, nor forsaken the covenant of God.  Maccabeus is\nforemost now in glory as once in danger.  Press ye to see him, children\nof Judah! shout to welcome him, sons of the free!\n\nA group of matrons and maidens surrounded the entrance to the Temple.\nZarah and Rachel were amongst them.\n\n\"You should stand foremost, my daughter, to greet the conquerors,\"\ncried Rachel to her fair young companion, who was rather inclined to\nshrink back.  \"The Asmonean blood flows in your veins; you are\nkinswoman to our prince; and you have yourself nobly suffered\npersecution for the faith.  What! tears in your eyes, maiden, on such a\nmorning as this!\"\n\n\"Oh, that my beloved mother, Hadassah, had lived to behold it!\" thought\nZarah.  \"She would have deemed this glorious day a type and forerunner\nof that even more blessed time when _the ransomed of the Lord shall\nreturn to Zion with songs and everlasting joy upon their heads: they\nshall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away_\"\n(Isa. xxxv. 10).\n\nYes; as that bright, warm day in winter, soon to be succeeded by frosts\nand storms, was in regard to the long, glorious summer, so was the\nhappiness of Judaea under the sway of her first Asmonean princes,\ncompared to the glory which will be hers when her many ages of\ntribulation shall be ended.  In the time of Maccabeus and his\nsuccessors, the \"discrowned queen\" had arisen from the dust; but she\nhas not yet, even at this late period, mounted her throne.  More\nfearful judgments, more terrible desolation, were to succeed an\ninterval of prosperity and freedom in the history of Zion.  The Romans,\nmore formidable even than the Syrians, were to give Jerusalem's sons to\nthe sword and her Temple to the flames; and God's ancient people were\nto be scattered throughout all nations, to be a by-word and a hissing\namongst them.  But the glory is not departed for ever.  We may--or our\ndescendants must--see the Vine brought out of Egypt, budding into new\nbeauty and life at the breath of the promised Spring.\n\n\"He comes, he comes!  Maccabeus, our hero!\"  Such were the shouts which\nburst from every side as the war-worn victors appeared, with palm\nbranches in their hands.  Was not exultation in the heart of Maccabeus\nat that moment?  Perhaps not.  Perhaps he would gladly have exchanged\nthe shouts of all the people for a loving welcome from one dear voice.\nJudas caught a glimpse of Zarah.  Hers were the only eyes in all the\ncrowd that were not fixed upon himself.  She was eagerly looking at the\nform of one a little way in the rear of the chief---the form of her\nbetrothed husband, the Gentile proselyte whom she loved.\n\nThe conquerors entered the Temple of Zion.  They came, not only to\nworship, but to purify.  No sacrifice could be offered in the sanctuary\ntill what the heathen had denied the Hebrew should cleanse.  With\nindignant horror Maccabeus and his followers beheld the image of\nJupiter, which for years had desecrated the Temple.  Since the\ndeparture of Antiochus, no worshipper indeed had bowed down before the\nidolatrous shrine: the edifice had been deserted and left to neglect.\nThe place had now an appearance of wildness and desolation, as if the\ncurse of God were upon it, and presented such a contrast to what it had\nbeen in former days as struck sadness into the hearts of Maccabeus and\nhis warriors.  In the words of the historian: \"When they saw the\nsanctuary desolate, and the altar profaned, and the gates burned up,\nand shrubs growing in the courts as in a forest or in one of the\nmountains, yea, and the priests' chambers pulled down, they rent their\nclothes and made great lamentations, and cast ashes upon their heads,\nand fell down to the ground upon their faces, and blew an alarm with\nthe trumpets, and cried towards heaven.\"\n\nBut no long time was given to lamentations.  With all the energy of his\nnature, Maccabeus at once set about the work of restoration.  He chose\nout the most zealous and virtuous of the priests to cleanse the\nsanctuary, destroy every vestige of idolatry, carry away even the\nstones that had been defiled, and pull down the altar which had been\nprofaned.  New vessels were made, shew-bread and incense were prepared,\nall in the renovated sanctuary was made ready, for the joyful Feast of\nDedication, This festival was appointed by Judas Maccabeus to be\nannually held; and it was from thenceforth celebrated from year to year\nfor more than two centuries--till her darkest, most lengthened trial\ncame upon Jerusalem.  Who shall now keep the Feast of the Dedication of\nthe Temple when that glorious Temple has itself become a thing of the\npast?\n\n\n\n[1] Answering to December.  Of this time of the year, Dr. Kitto tells\nus: \"Gumpenberg in Jerusalem, on the 6th, 10th, 11th, and 16th,\nexperienced weather which he describes as almost equal to that of May\nin our latitudes.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXIX.\n\nTHE FEAST OF DEDICATION.\n\nLoud was the burst of joyous music from citherns, harps, and\ncymbals--Mount Zion rang with songs of gladness--when in the early\nmorning the worshippers of the Lord of Hosts appeared in His Temple, to\noffer sacrifices of thanksgiving!  The front of the building was decked\nwith crowns of gold, and with shields; and, in the forcible language of\nthe ancient historian, \"thus was there very great gladness among the\npeople, for that the reproach of the heathen was put away.\"\n\nThen--emblem of thanksgivings from thousands of hearts--rose clouds of\ndelicious fragrance from the altar of incense.  Judas Maccabeus stood\nbeside it--more pale and pensive, perhaps, than seemed to suit the\noccasion--watching the light curling smoke as it ascended and lost\nitself in the perfumed air.  Presently the prince took something from\nhis arm, and cast it into the flame.  The movement was so quiet that it\nwas noticed but by few by-standers; and none knew what that was which\nblazed brightly for a moment, and then left not even visible ashes\nbehind.  It was but a few threads of flax, which had bound up flowers\nlong since withered; it seemed a worthless sacrifice indeed; but when,\na few years later, Judas Maccabeus poured out his life's-blood on the\nfatal field of Eleasa, the steel which pierced his brave heart\ninflicted not on him so keen a pang.\n\nAnd here will I close my story, leaving the hero of Judah a victor over\nhis enemies, and a victor over himself.  Let the picture left on the\nreader's mind be that of Jerusalem in the hour of her triumph and\nrejoicing--when the Lord had turned again the captivity of Zion, and\nher exulting citizens were like unto them that dream!\n\nBut, ere I lay down my pen, let me crave leave for a few moments to\naddress my readers, both Christian and Hebrew.  And to the first I\nwould say: Think not of the record of the lives of Judah's heroes, and\nthe deaths of her martyrs, as something in which we have no personal\ninterest--merely to be admired, like the courage of the Greeks at\nThermopylae, or the devotion of Regulus at Rome.  Rather let us honour\nthe children of Abraham who fought or died for the Covenant as our\nbrethren in faith, heirs of all the promises on which we rest our\nhopes, as well as of some others peculiarly their own.  Their\nScriptures are our Scriptures--they guarded them at hazard of their\nlives; their Messiah is our Messiah, though He visited earth too late\nfor them--as too early for us--to behold Him.  Christianity rests on\nsuch Judaism as was held by Hebrew saints and martyrs; Christianity is\nin regard to the ancient religion as the capital to the column, the\nfull-blown flower to the bud, as the cloud floating high above the sea\nis to the waters from which it drew its existence.  Laws and rites\nwhich passed away when types had been accomplished and prophecies\nfulfilled, are as the salts which are necessary component parts of the\nsea but not of the cloud; when it rose on high it left them behind.\n\nIt is an interesting subject for thought to inquire whether, if\nDaniel's weeks had run out in the times of the Maccabees, and the\nMessenger of the Covenant had then come suddenly into His Temple,\nChrist would not have found adoring worshippers instead of fierce\npersecutors--a throne instead of a cross?  Would He not then have been\nwelcomed by the heroes of Emmaus and Bethsura, instead of being\ndespised and rejected of men?  Would he not, humanly speaking, have\nescaped the scourge, the nails, and the spear?  But how then shall the\nScriptures be fulfilled (Matt. xxvl. 54) that Christ should suffer\nthese things? (Luke xxiv. 36).  The Sacrifice must be slain, that the\nsinner may be pardoned and live.\n\nAnd if--as I would fain hope--some Hebrews peruse these pages, how\nearnestly would I desire power to speak to their hearts!  Countrymen\nand countrywomen of Maccabeus, ye whose fathers fought side by side\nwith the Asmonean brothers, does the history of their deeds rouse none\nof their spirit of patriotism in your breasts?  Can ye, amidst the\ncares and toils of this working-day world, be indifferent to the state\nof your own land, your own city--yours by divine right--yours by a deed\nof gift signed and sealed by God Himself!  Is it no grief to you that\nthe mosque stands on the site of your holy Temple; that--under a\ncorrupt form of so-called Christianity--idolatry is practised at this\nday in the city of David?  _Ye that make mention of the Lord keep not\nsilence, and give Him no rest, till He establish, and till He make\nJerusalem a praise in the earth!_  (Isa. lxii. 7, 8.)\n\nIf Gentile Christians are longing and praying for that time, shall not\nHebrews long, pray, and strive to hasten its coming?  Shall they not\nsearch their hearts and ask, \"Wherefore is it so long delayed?\nWherefore are the heathen still suffered to prevail; the followers of\nthe false prophet to hold the holy city in subjection?  For what\ntransgression doth the Lord God of Israel still hide His face from His\npeople; what hath brought upon them a judgment enduring so much longer\nthan Egyptian bondage, or Babylonish captivity, or the tyranny of an\nAntiochus Epiphanes?\"  Seek for the answer to this momentous question\nin your own Scriptures; read them in the light thrown by your own\nhistory;--that history will in the future flash into greater brilliancy\nthan even in the days of the Hebrew heroes; we Christians are assured\nof this, because we, like yourselves, believe those Scriptures, and\nknow that God's Word is pledged for your restoration, and that _the\nWord of the Lord endureth for ever_!","title":"Hebrew Heroes: A Tale Founded on Jewish History","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":69176}