Naomi

by Mrs. J. B. Webb

CHAPTER XI.

The return of Javan to the home of his father put an end, in a great degree, to the freedom and independence that Naomi had hitherto enjoyed in directing her rambles according to her own inclination. Her brother constantly offered to be her companion and protector, when he was not engaged in carrying on his secret machinations in favour of Simon, and it was therefore but seldom that she could now find an opportunity of visiting her beloved old friend at Bethany. Occasionally, however, she enjoyed that satisfaction, accompanied by Claudia and escorted by her cousin Theophilus. Since her return to Jerusalem from Pella, she had become better acquainted with her cousin than she had been before. He was naturally extremely reserved in his manner, and the consciousness that on the important subject of religion he differed from the family of Zadok, had made him rather shun his relatives, when he was not called upon by duty or kindness to associate with them. It has been mentioned that during the time of Zadok's illness, when the Zealots carried on their wildest outrages, Theophilus remained in Jerusalem to be a comfort and protection to Salome and Claudia. To the former he had always been very much attached, for the gentleness and meekness of her disposition accorded with his ideas of what was becoming in a female character much more than the energetic spirit of her daughter; and he frequently lamented that she should remain ignorant of the religion of Him who was eminently "meek and lowly of heart," and whose doctrines he felt sure would have found a suitable abode in her amiable and pious spirit. But "the Lord seeth not as man seeth," and judgeth not as man judgeth. The proud and self-confident Naomi became, by the teaching of His Spirit, a mild disciple of Christ—she whom Theophilus regarded as too high-minded and self-willed to receive the humbling doctrines of Christianity, had already embraced them with eagerness and sincerity; but her more gentle mother shunned and dreaded the same doctrines, and while appealing to the mercy of God, yet put confidence in the flesh, and—as she had been brought up to do—trusted in part to her own works for acceptance with Him.

For Claudia Theophilus conceived a much warmer affection. The candour of her disposition, and her openness to conviction when he conversed with her on the folly and iniquity of her former religion, won his esteem; and the intelligence and seriousness of her remarks made him hope that in due time her heart would be prepared for the reception of that faith to which he was a most zealous convert. He delighted to read and explain to her the writings of Moses and the prophets, and to point out to her, through the whole series of sacred Scripture, the promise of the great Messiah, the seed of the woman who should bruise the serpent's head. He did not altogether dwell on these glorious passages which depict his triumphant advent. He had learned to believe and adore him in his humiliation, and he showed to Claudia how the Saviour must be stricken and smitten, and bear the transgressions of men; and how he must be despised and rejected by those whom he came to save; and at last, how it was written of him that he should make "his grave with the wicked, and with the rich in his death," though "he had done no violence, neither was any deceit in his mouth."

By these means he opened her mind to the real character of the Messiah, whose coming she still regarded as future, and prepared her to receive the lowly Jesus of Nazareth as "him of whom Moses and the prophets did speak." When Naomi returned home, Theophilus had not further enlightened his young pupil in the Christian faith. He was well satisfied with the progress she was making under his instruction and that of Salome and Deborah; but when at their next meeting she informed him of the confession which her friend had so boldly made, and with tears entreated him to try and convince her of her error, and thus restore her to her father's favour, he felt that he could no longer dissemble his own faith. Amaziah, in declaring himself and Judith to be Christians, had not mentioned his son; he had wished him to act as he saw best for himself; and Claudia had no idea that her preceptor was also a Nazarene, and that he had hitherto purposely withheld from her the knowledge of his being so. She was therefore not a little astonished at his declaration that he had been baptized into the church of Christ many years ago, and that the dearest wish of his heart was to see her as sincere a believer in the crucified Jesus as he was himself.

From that time Theophilus took every opportunity of conversing with Claudia on the subject most interesting to him; and Naomi rejoiced to find that her friend's prejudices against Christianity were gradually disappearing. She delighted to join in the animated discussions that frequently occurred between Claudia and her young teacher, and her own fervent enthusiasm inspired fresh zeal into the calm but devoted spirit of Theophilus. The same faith animated them both, and perfect confidence was soon established between the cousins, such as they had never felt in former days. Naomi was regarded by Theophilus as a sister; and the warmest efforts and the most heartfelt prayers were exerted by these Christian relatives for the advancement of Claudia's true happiness and eternal salvation.

When Amaziah and Judith became inmates in the house of Zadok, they saw with much concern the evident attachment that subsisted between their son and the young Roman maiden; for they knew not that the Spirit of the Lord was working in her heart, and bringing her out of heathen darkness into the glorious light of the Gospel. But when Theophilus informed them of the progress which the true religion had already made in dispelling the errors of her education, and bringing her to the knowledge of God, they rejoiced that he had bestowed his affections on one so amiable and so sensible as Claudia. The interest which they would naturally have felt in instructing so engaging and ingenuous a pupil, was greatly enhanced by the prospect of her becoming ere long their daughter; and they resolved that as soon as she was prepared to embrace the religion of Jesus, and to receive baptism, they would solicit her father's consent to her union with Theophilus, and removal with them to Ephesus.

Naomi sincerely rejoiced in her friend's happiness; but the idea that the time was drawing near when Amaziah and Judith were to depart from Jerusalem, and that then Claudia also would be removed far away from her, and she should be left without one Christian friend in whom she could confide, filled her with sorrow. While Mary of Bethany lived, she knew that she should not want either sympathy or counsel; but she saw that the aged saint was sinking gradually into the grave, and her own prospects were cheerless and gloomy as regarded the present world. Nevertheless all the persuasions and arguments of Claudia and her relatives were quite unavailing to induce her to accompany them in their exile. Her parents would have consented to her doing so, for Zadok saw how hopeless it was that she would ever return to the faith of her fathers; and he would not have opposed any plan by which the dishonour of her apostasy might have been kept from the knowledge of the world. To Salome the loss of her daughter's society would have been irreparable and severe; and yet she almost entreated her to go. She believed that Naomi would thus be removed from many griefs and much anxiety; and she also dreaded the evil days that her heart foreboded were coming on Zion, and desired to know that her beloved child was placed beyond the reach of Judea's chastisement. Not even her mother's wishes could in this instance shake the resolution of Naomi: she could not believe that it was her duty to forsake her father and mother, so long as she was not absolutely prevented from exercising her own religion, and compelled to conform to anything which her conscience condemned. This was not the case, for Zadok was too wise to resort to such measures; and in the privacy of her own chamber she was permitted to pass her time according to the dictates of her own unalterable faith, and the customs which she had learned from her Christian brethren at Pella. No prospects of personal security and happiness could tempt her to leave her parents, more especially in a time of danger and anxiety; and her firmness on this point moved the heart of Zadok towards his daughter, and made him in some measure relax from the sternness of manner which he had assumed towards her ever since her return from Pella.

Javan knew not that his uncle and Judith were members of the sect which he so greatly despised. Their apostasy had been hitherto kept secret from him; and therefore if he had believed that heavy calamities were coming on the city of his pride, he would have urged his sister to remove for a time to Ephesus. But Javan dreamt only of his country's triumph, and admitted not one thought of her desolation. He looked forward with hope and confidence to the result of the war, and exulted in the prospect of meeting the Romans, hand to hand, before the walls of Jerusalem. Therefore he encouraged Naomi to remain, and witness the glorious deliverance which the Lord would bring about for his own people; and though far from sharing his triumphant expectations, she was well pleased that he did not oppose her wishes, and her determination to share whatever peril should betide her parents.

The family of Zadok were thus circumstanced and thus influenced, when, on a calm and lovely evening, Theophilus, with his cousin and Claudia, crossed the brook of Kedron, and ascended the Mount of Olives. Theophilus led his companions a little out of the direct road to Bethany, that they might visit the garden of Gethsemane—that spot so sacred and so dear to every one who bears the name of Him, who beneath those aged trees wept and agonized for them! Tradition had preserved the situation of the very spot on which the Saviour knelt; and in deep emotion the three young converts now stood round the consecrated spot, while Theophilus fervently prayed that they all might be partakers in the redemption purchased by the mysterious sufferings of the Son of God. Naomi had not visited that garden since she had been taught to feel so deep an interest in the Divine Being, whose presence had so frequently hallowed it, and who loved to retire to the calmness of its peaceful shades, after the toils and trials of the day were over. There had he conversed with his highly-favoured disciples, and there had he passed hours in prayer for them, and for all who should in after ages believe on Him through their word. How precious was the remembrance of those prayers to the heart of Naomi. She had already met with difficulties and temptations in her Christian course, and she had reason to anticipate still further trials and sufferings; yet she knew that she might apply to herself the words of her Lord to Peter, "I have prayed for thee, that thy faith fail not;" and trusting to his intercession, she believed that strength would be given her to take up the cross, and follow the Lamb whithersoever he should lead her.

Her reflections therefore on her future prospects were serious, but not desponding; and they occupied her mind during the remainder of the walk to Bethany so entirely that she took no part in the conversation of Theophilus and Claudia. Their discourse naturally turned from Gethsemane to the succeeding events in the sorrowful life of the Redeemer; and when they reached the dwelling of Mary, the interesting subject was unfinished.

"Mary," said Claudia, as she seated herself by the couch on which the aged disciple rested, "we have been to the garden of Olives, where you used to say you would lead me and Naomi, and tell us of the latter days of Jesus of Nazareth. I fear your feeble limbs will never again carry you to the holy spot; but will you not relate to us now what you remember of the Redeemer's last visits to this house, and all the sad events that closed his life?"

"My child," replied Mary, "it is now my happiness and my support to dwell on those days; though when they were present, I believed that the misery and woe which I endured would have broken my heart. My soul, now that it is about to quit this earthly scene and appear before its Maker, rests wholly on those sufferings of my Lord and Saviour for the expiation of the sins that crowd on my memory, and would press so heavily and so hopelessly on my conscience, had he not borne their weight and endured their punishment. Not one word or look of my blessed Master has escaped my memory. Oh, his countenance was light, and his voice brought peace and joy to all who loved him as I loved him! And yet I lived to hear that voice lifted up in anguish, and to see that heavenly countenance grow cold in death! It is to that last awful period that my own soul clings; but I will tell you of the days of anxious grief that went before. It was on the evening of the last sabbath before the Passover that Jesus came to dwell beneath our roof. We did not know all that should befall him ere the close of that great festival; but we saw that his disciples were filled with grief and anxiety, and we heard from them of the sad announcement which he had made of his approaching sufferings; and our hearts were heavy. The Lord graciously accepted the invitation of one of his disciples named Simon, who dwelt in Bethany, to sup in his house, and it was the happy privilege of my sister and myself to wait upon him."

"And it was on that occasion, dear mother," interrupted Naomi, "that Judith has told me you anointed the feet of the Lord, and wiped them with your hair, and that he so kindly received that mark of devotion, and so remarkably commended it."

"Yes, my dear Naomi, it did please the gracious Redeemer to manifest his approbation of so slight and unworthy a service, to teach his followers, in all ages, that he will accept the humblest offering of the meanest disciple, if brought to him in love and gratitude. He who so soon afterwards threw aside the cloak of hypocrisy, and was known as the traitor, reproved me for thus expending what might have been sold for a large sum, and given to the poor; but the Lord silenced him, and gave this melancholy sanction to what I had done: 'She is come aforehand to anoint my body to the burying.' Then we knew that all our worst fears were well founded, and that our beloved Master was indeed about to leave us; and then did every moment of his presence become, if possible, doubly precious to us all. The following day he remained with us here; and the report having reached the city that he was abiding at Bethany, multitudes of Jews came out to see him, and also to behold our brother who had been dead, and was alive again. The approach of the Passover had necessarily brought great numbers of Jews from distant places to keep the feast; and many of these had never seen Jesus, though his fame was spread abroad over all the land, and they had heard of the miracles which he had wrought, and were eager to be convinced of the truth of the resurrection of Lazarus. How rejoiced were we that our beloved brother should thus become a convincing proof of the divinity of our Lord and Master! And the time of his departure being now so near, he no longer refused to be publicly acknowledged. The hour was coming in which the Son of Man should be glorified; and the next day he sent two of his disciples before him to Jerusalem, to bring him the ass on which the prophet had foretold that he, the King of Zion, should enter the city. Seated on that lowly animal, and surrounded by all the inhabitants of Bethany, he descended the Mount of Olives. A vast concourse of persons from Jerusalem met him as he proceeded, and while they waved aloft the palm-branches which they had gathered, and cast their garments on the road before him, they raised the exulting cry, 'Hosanna! blessed is the King of Israel, that cometh in the name of the Lord!' O my children, that was a glorious sight! In the triumphant feelings of that moment we forgot the anxiety and fear that had so heavily oppressed our hearts. But when we turned to look on Him who was the object of all this enthusiastic feeling, we saw that he took no part in the general rejoicing. His eyes were fixed in sorrow and pity on the magnificent city towards which he was approaching, and the measure of whose guilt he knew would so soon be filled up. The shouts of the countless multitude were hushed, for the King of Zion opened his lips to speak; and while tears of compassion flowed from his eyes, he uttered that awful prediction, which doubtless will ere long be terribly fulfilled. Never can those words be forgotten:—'If thou hadst known, even thou, at least in this thy day, the things which belong unto thy peace! but now they are hid from thine eyes. For the days shall come upon thee, that thine enemies shall cast a trench about thee, and compass thee round, and keep thee on every side, and shall lay thee even with the ground, and thy children within thee; and they shall not leave in thee one stone upon another; because thou knewest not the time of thy visitation.' My dear young friends," continued Mary, in a voice trembling with emotion, "I shall not live to see those evil days, for I feel that my departure is near at hand; but you may expect to behold the vengeance of the Lord executed on the rebellious city, which has been blessed and favoured above all other cities on the earth. May you all be preserved from sharing her punishment, as, by the mercy of your Redeemer, your souls have been snatched from her guilt! Naomi, my beloved child in the Lord, I know your determination to abide with your parents; and I believe that you are acting according to the will of God. Therefore, come what may, I know that you are safe in his hands; and that whether in sorrow or in joy, in life or in death, his eye shall watch over you, and his hand shall guide you, until at last he shall bring you to those heavenly joys for which your ransomed spirit pants already."

Mary paused awhile, for her feelings were unchilled by age, and they were too powerful for her strength. Theophilus begged her to converse no more at that time, and promised that he would on the following evening bring his young companions again, to hear the remainder of her interesting recital; but she assured him that it was her greatest delight to discourse with them of those events which were so indelibly impressed on her own heart.

"How," she added, "can I better spend the small remains of time and strength which I still receive from his mercy, than by telling of all that he has done and suffered for my soul, and for the souls of those who hear me; yea, even for the souls of the thoughtless and guilty multitude, who refused to listen to the things that belonged to their peace, and who so soon exchanged the hosannas and blessings with which they hailed his entrance into their city, for menaces and cries of 'Crucify him, crucify him!' Doubtless had the children of Zion by faith beheld their King; had they repented in sack-cloth and ashes, like the inhabitants of Nineveh at the preaching of Jonah, and wept and prayed unto the Lord, even then the judgment might have been reversed, and mercy have triumphed. But they hardened their hearts, they killed the Holy One and the Just, and the city which saw his death must see his vengeance. The day on which our Master made his public entrance into Jerusalem, he passed much time in the temple, preaching and teaching the people; and when eventide was come, he again returned to our dwelling, accompanied by his twelve apostles.

"Again on the following morning he repaired to the temple, and to the astonishment of the priests and elders, he drove out all those who were profaning his Father's house by buying and selling within the sacred courts. They were filled with indignation at his boldness, and at the applauses of the multitude; and these ministers, appointed for God's service, who should have led the people to the feet of Jesus, to listen to his words, took counsel how they might slay him, because many believed on him. But as yet they feared to take him, for they saw that the multitude who constantly surrounded him would rise up in his defence; and that night also he returned unmolested to Bethany. It was not till the following evening that the traitor Judas went to the chief priests, and offered to deliver up his master into their hands; and the next day was the Passover. The treachery of Judas, and the determination of the chief priests to put him to death, must have been well known to the Lord; yet he openly went again to the city, and eat the Passover with his twelve disciples, not even excluding him who had already betrayed him. Then did he institute that holy feast, which it is the happiness and privilege of his disciples, in every age and every land, to celebrate in remembrance of him. You, Theophilus and Naomi, have already been permitted to partake of this memorial of your Saviour's dying love, and our dear Claudia will soon enjoy the same privilege. May it ever be your highest joy thus to declare yourselves his disciples; and may you so eat his flesh and drink his blood that you may be partakers in the salvation which by his death he purchased for you. When our beloved Master left Bethany on the day of the Passover, we little thought of the circumstances under which we should next behold him, and that he would never again return to our house before his death. But that very night the treacherous schemes of Judas were accomplished. I have often repeated to you already, what I afterwards heard from the blessed disciple John, of the gracious and affecting discourse which he addressed to his chosen followers before he left the room in which he had eaten his last supper; and how, having sung a hymn with them, he repaired to the garden which you have visited to-day, and passed hours in deep and mysterious agony, such as we cannot comprehend. There, to a retired and favourite spot, where Judas had often followed his Master, he now led the soldiers who were commissioned to take him. No admiring multitude now stood round him, to prevent the deed of sacrilege. The darkness of night shrouded alike the divine sufferer and his malignant enemies. The powers of evil were abroad, and were permitted in that hour to bring to pass what had been decreed in the everlasting counsels of Jehovah. Even the chosen disciples, the lion-hearted Peter and the devoted John, were sunk in sleep, worn out with sorrow and anxiety, and watched not with their sorrowing Lord, until he roused them to meet the approaching foe. Oh! my heart burns when I think of the insult which he then received from Judas. The traitor met him with a kiss! And the Lord of heaven and earth, who could have called down legions of angels to his defence, submitted to the salutation, and suffered himself to be bound and led away unresistingly, as a lamb to the slaughter. The rumour that he was taken prisoner by the chief priests reached us at Bethany before break of day; and in anguish not to be told, we hastened to the city. We found that he had been led to Ananius first, and at the entrance of his court we waited in trembling anxiety, until we beheld him brought forth, not, as we hoped, to freedom, but only to be dragged from thence to the palace of Caiaphas. John was permitted to follow his Master into the palace, and my heart went with him, but we were not allowed to enter. Soon the beloved disciple returned and took in Peter also: but it had been well for him if he had not been admitted. You all know how Satan overcame him, and how grievously he fell. That fall has been a warning to us all; and may we be instructed by it! But we will not dwell on the errors of that distinguished and now glorified disciple. They were pardoned by his benign Master, and are only recorded for our instruction."

"Was John standing by him when he uttered his denial?" asked Claudia. "I think the affectionate heart of the disciple whom Jesus loved must have been deeply wounded to hear such words from the mouth of his companion."

"John had followed the Lord Jesus into the presence of the high-priest, and did not therefore witness the cowardice of Peter. But he who knew even the thoughts of their hearts, heard his name denied three times; and it must have added to the sorrows that already weighed so heavily on his soul. But pity was all he felt; and he turned on Peter such a look as reached him in the distant crowd, and told him at once of the grief and the forgiveness of his Master. His repentance was instant and sincere, and with bitter tears he mourned his guilt."

"Did you see Jesus again, Mary?" inquired Claudia. "I know that he was at length condemned by our Roman governor; but where did that take place?"

"Oh! my child, they led him from court to court, and from one judge to another. They insulted and scourged him; they clothed him in robes of mockery; and we saw him thus brought forth to the people by Pilate, and heard him loudly proclaim that he found no fault in him. Then we believed that he would be set free, and that his humiliation was over. But Pilate's declaration of his innocence was received with deafening cries of 'Crucify him, crucify him!' The chief priests moved the people to demand his death, and their voices prevailed over Pilate's own conviction that he had done no evil. A murderer was released, according to the custom of the governor to set one prisoner at liberty on that day, and Jesus was led away to be crucified. Tearless, and almost stupified, my sister and I followed in the crowd. We could not believe that what we had seen and heard was true; but soon we beheld our own adored Master bending beneath the weight of the cross on which he was to suffer. I cannot dwell on what followed. You have all heard the particulars of that dread hour, and all have learned to cast your souls at the foot of that cross, and seek salvation there. Martha and I stood afar off; we could not leave the spot, nor could we bring ourselves to approach nearer to the scene of suffering. But the mother of the Lord stood by, attended by three of her faithful friends, and the beloved disciple supported her. She who had watched over his infancy, and noted in her heart every manifestation of his divine nature—she who had ever received from him the affection of a son, now stood beneath his cross, and saw his dying agonies. Not even the horrors of that hour could make him forget his mother; he looked down and blessed her and with his dying breath committed her to the care of John."

"And he well discharged the trust," observed Theophilus. "My father has often told me of his devoted attention to her while she lived. He was indeed a son to her; and nothing which could soothe her spirit or promote her comfort was neglected by John. With what impatient delight do I look forward to seeing that blessed man at Ephesus! He will repeat to me again and again all that you have told me so often, Mary; and by God's help I shall learn from him yet more and more to love my risen Lord. Oh, if I had lived while Jesus was on earth, I feel as if my love for him would have emulated that of John! He is indeed blessed beyond all the other sons of men; for he is that disciple who was eminently beloved. He was privileged to hold such intimate communion with him as we can never know."

"True, my son," replied Mary, "the Lord will return no more to earth as a man of sorrows, and deign to accept the sympathy and the humble services of his disciples. But your eyes, Theophilus, shall wake to see him come in glory; and if your faith and love hold on steadfast unto the end, you shall meet him as a friend, and enjoy such proofs of his favour as shall far surpass all that were ever bestowed even on John."

"But tell me," interrupted Claudia, "what did you see and hear of the fearful prodigies that attended the death of Messiah? I love to hear the recital from you, who were an eye-witness of all the awful events which declared him to be indeed the Son of God. My father once mentioned with contempt the centurion, who at that moment confessed his divinity; but he knew not the truth of all that then occurred to force conviction on the heart of the Roman soldier. It is my warmest prayer that one day I may hear him also exclaim, 'Truly this was the Son of God!'"

"May the Lord grant it!" replied Mary. "No soul that was not blinded by the devices of Satan could have witnessed what that centurion saw and not have believed. An awful darkness had covered the land for three hours, and then, when all had been accomplished—when pardon had been pronounced on the expiring thief—when an asylum had been provided for his heart-broken mother—and when everything had been fulfilled, even to the letter, that had been prophesied concerning him—the Lord proclaimed in a loud voice, 'It is finished!' Heaven and earth heard the cry, and man's redemption was complete. Then he said, 'Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit;'—and bowing his head in death, his divine spirit left the house of clay in which it had so long sojourned and suffered. Then did the powers of nature give evidence to the awful importance of the work that was finished. The earth quaked to its foundations, the rocks were rent asunder, and the graves burst open. And more ominous still, the veil of the temple was rent asunder, and the priests who were waiting there rushed forth in terror, to declare the wonderful event. The hearts of the multitude, who had come together as to a spectacle, were stricken with awe. They smote their breasts, and returned in wonder to their homes. But we who knew and loved him best, yet tarried to watch his corpse. We knew that all life was fled, for we had seen his body pierced by the spear of one of the soldiers; but we could not leave his sacred form to be the object of their insults. We had not power or influence sufficient to obtain permission to bury it; but Joseph of Arimathea, who believed in him, and feared not to acknowledge his faith, even at that time of danger and distrust, went boldly to the Roman governor, and having requested the body of Jesus, it was delivered to him for interment. It was the weakness of our faith which led us to be so anxious about the burying of our Lord's body; for had we believed all that he himself had said concerning his rising again the third day, we should have known that all our cares and precautions for its preservation was needless. But as yet we knew not the Scriptures nor the power of God and when the Lord was laid in the sepulchre of Joseph, we saw a great stone laid against the door, and departed with the melancholy satisfaction of knowing that all due respect had been paid to his honoured remains."

"But how wonderfully," observed Naomi, "was this very circumstance made to show forth the truth of God's word! The Jews even now say that his disciples came by night and took him away; and such is my father's reply, when I speak of his miraculous resurrection. But he cannot deny the security of the sepulchre. He acknowledges that the stone was sealed, and a watch was set by the chief priests. Surely then their own precautions prove the falsity of what they say."

"Yes, my child," continued Mary, "the malice of these wicked men was overruled by God, to accomplish what he had desired; and their jealous prudence was the means of proving that he did not suffer his Holy One to see corruption. While we, his weak and sorrowing disciples, were mourning his death with bitter tears, and hiding our grief in solitude, for fear of the vengeance of the priests, the Lord was preparing for us such joy and triumph as our desponding hearts could not conceive. What words can tell the feelings which over-powered us when first we heard the glorious news, 'He is risen!' And oh! when at length we saw him, when our eyes were blessed with the sight of his heavenly countenance, and we heard again that voice of mercy and of love, truly could we then have taken up the words of the aged Simeon, and said, 'Lord, now are we ready to depart in peace, for our eyes have seen thy salvation!' We knew that our redemption was accomplished and accepted; we knew that henceforth whosoever believed in Jesus should inherit eternal life. All our doubts and fears were gone, and peace and joy for ever established in our souls. The Lord did not tarry long with us, but ascended to his Father. There does he watch over his church, and sympathise in all the trials and temptations of his children; and there do they join him and behold his glory, as one by one the hand of death comes to set them free from this earthly tabernacle, and open to them an entrance into the mansions of everlasting bliss. Oh! my dear children, my spirit longs to take its flight, and soon, I feel, will the summons come."

Mary closed her eyes and sank back on her couch, greatly exhausted by the effort she had made. She had hoped that the account of all that she herself had heard and seen might make a deep impression on the heart of Claudia, and she was not disappointed; but her strength was almost unequal to the exertion of so long a discourse on subjects so profoundly interesting to her, and for a few minutes she lay silent and motionless, while in her spirit she fervently prayed. Her young friends and her faithful attendant Hannah, who had listened to the conversation with deep attention, stood round her in silence, until she had somewhat recovered her strength, when she raised herself, and again addressed them, but in a weak and faltering voice—

"The evening is closing in, my children, and you have already tarried too long with me. I will detain you no more: but if we meet again in this world, I will tell you yet many things that will touch your hearts with love to your Redeemer, and furnish you with blessed subjects for reflection when youth and health are gone, and you are, like me, laid on the bed of death. Let me bless you before you depart."

The three young disciples knelt beside the couch of the dying saint, and with tears received her blessing. They then rose, and embracing her affectionately, left the house and hastened towards the city. The sun was sinking behind the hill of Zion as they began to descend the Mount of Olives, and the short twilight had faded away before they reached the valley of Kedron, and entered the gardens that bordered the murmuring brook.

Their spirits were oppressed with awe and sadness, for the solemn interest of Mary's discourse had deeply impressed them, and her parting address had filled them with sorrow. They felt assured that their beloved friend was leaving them; and though it would be to her a transition from a world of care to a world of joy unutterable and full of glory, yet they could not think of losing her without emotion. They proceeded almost in silence, until, as they were passing by the verge of a thick grove of olive-trees, Claudia pressed the arm of Theophilus, and hastily whispered:

"Listen, Theophilus: some one is surely watching us. I have heard footsteps behind us several times; but I saw nothing, and I feared you would chide me for cowardice if I spoke my fears. But now I am sure we are followed. I saw the figure of a man folded in a dark garment pass stealthily beneath those trees."

"Why should you fear, my Claudia?" replied Theophilus. "No one can harm us here. See, the gates are in sight, and I can perceive the dim forms of the watch-men moving slowly along the walls. We are within reach of help, and I am armed, so do not tremble."

"I do not fear for myself, Theophilus, but for you and Naomi. If Javan knew of our visits to Bethany—if Javan knew that his sister and his cousin were disciples of Jesus—oh, I believe no ties of blood would prevent him from denouncing you to the tyrants who make religion a mask for cruelty and murder."

"Silence, dear Claudia," said Naomi in a low whisper; "your eagerness makes you forget that you are perhaps within hearing of the person whom you think you saw lurking so near. Let us proceed quickly. I cannot share your fears, but I dread my father's inquiries as to the cause of our long absence."

A short time sufficed to bring them to the threshold of Zadok's house, where Deborah met them with a countenance of alarm and anxiety.

"Why are you so late, my children?" she exclaimed. "I have been watching from the housetop in great uneasiness, until it became so dark that I could no longer distinguish the road up the Mount of Olives. Javan came in soon after you left the house, and asked eagerly in what direction you had walked out. My fears told me that you were gone to Bethany; but I concealed my suspicions, and tried to persuade your brother that you were gone by Solomon's pool, towards the valley of Hinnom. He looked stern and angry, and without replying hurried from the house."

"Then," cried Claudia, "my fears were not unfounded, and it was Javan himself who followed us. Something in the figure of the person I saw reminded me of him; and yet I tried to believe it could not be. Gracious Heaven! preserve us from his vengeance!"

Both Theophilus and Naomi were greatly alarmed at what Deborah had communicated, for they had lately heard Javan express himself with so much bitter hatred towards the Nazarenes that they felt convinced he would use all his influence for the persecution and destruction of any who bore the name; and they feared that even those who were of his near kindred would be sacrificed to his zeal and fanaticism. Claudia entreated Theophilus to leave them instantly, that Javan might not return and find them together; and also that he might repair to his father's apartments and inform him of what had occurred. He complied with her wishes, and was passing across the vestibule, towards the gallery that led to the suite of rooms occupied exclusively by his parents, when Javan entered, and in a voice of assumed kindness called to him to return.

"Come, Theophilus," he said, "I have seen but little of you lately, my time has been so much engaged. I have to thank you for so well supplying my place, and giving a brother's protection to Naomi in her evening rambles. Let us go altogether to the terrace, and join my father and mother, and you can entertain us with an account of your lengthened excursion, for you have been absent so long that you must doubtless have wandered far beyond the pool of Solomon."

There was an ill-suppressed tone of irony in what Javan said, that was but too well understood by those to whom it was addressed. Claudia turned deadly pale, and even Naomi felt that she had need of all her resolution to enable her to follow her brother. Theophilus calmly turned, and with an air of perfect composure joined his cousin, saying,—

"Yes, I believe an account of what we have heard and seen this evening will interest you all; and I claim to narrate it myself. Naomi and Claudia, you are not to interrupt me."

He accompanied this injunction with a warning look, which told the two maidens that he had some plan which he feared they might impede. The terrace they found unoccupied, and Javan left his companions there while he sought his parents. Theophilus immediately seized the opportunity to inform Naomi and Claudia that he plainly saw that Javan had discovered the object of their walk, and that his suspicions were excited.

"But," he added, "I believe I can baffle his inquiries, and ensure your safety, provided you both promise to be silent, and leave the explanation to me. You know that I will say nothing but what is true and right."

"Oh yes," said Claudia, "I will leave it all to you; and though Naomi does love to speak for herself, she must agree to do the same. I never wish, for my own part, to have anything to say to your fierce cousin."

"Claudia," replied Naomi, "you think too ill of my brother. His temper is warm, and his zeal sometimes makes him appear vindictive; but he has an affectionate heart; and to me he has shown much kindness since his return. Let us not anticipate evil, for perhaps we are even mistaken in supposing that he suspects our visits to Bethany, or at all events that he is aware of their object. I will get my harp, and sing to him some of his favourite hymns. In former days I could always drive away the evil spirit from his soul by my music, and now I hope it has not lost its charm. Do not say anything rash, Theophilus, and I will promise not to interfere with your schemes."

Naomi spoke more cheerfully than she felt, for she saw that Claudia was trembling with apprehension, and that Theophilus had evidently resolved on some measure of importance.

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