Naomi

by Mrs. J. B. Webb

CHAPTER XV.

The sun rose bright and cheerful on the morrow—that day so ardently desired by Claudia, as the day of her departure from Jerusalem, and the termination of all her fears and anxieties. But it proved a day of trouble and sorrow, and brought with it no comfort, no hope.

Soon after the morning broke, poor Hannah arrived from Bethany, with the servants who had assisted her in depositing the remains of the departed Mary in the hasty grave which they had prepared for her. Amaziah had also performed his promise of being present, if possible, on the occasion; and notwithstanding the grief which oppressed him, and the danger to which he exposed himself by attending the burial of a Christian, he had in the darkness of night returned to Bethany, and pronounced a funeral benediction over his revered and beloved friend. Then he hastened back to the city, and was followed shortly afterwards by the weeping Hannah and his own domestics, who carried with them all the little property which had been bequeathed to her by her mistress. One treasure the faithful servant bore herself, and that was the roll of parchment that contained the writings of St. Matthew. Mary had desired her to give it to Naomi, with her dying love and blessing, when she believed that she was sinking, and should not live to see her face on that sad night which had left such traces of sorrow on the hearts of all those who came to bid her farewell. Naomi received the gift with grateful joy, and carefully concealed it from every eye. It was a possession which she had long and earnestly coveted, and she thanked her Heavenly Father for thus mercifully providing her with the rich consolation of the inspired Gospel history, at the very time when she expected so soon to be deprived of all human support and human instruction. For the present all the plans for the departure of Amaziah and his family were laid aside. No fears for their own safety could induce them to leave the city while Theophilus remained a captive; but everything was held in readiness for the journey, at any moment when they could obtain his freedom.

The day was passed in various and ineffectual efforts to interest the chief priests and other leading men in his behalf. Even Zadok, the zealous and devoted priest, so distinguished for his own strict observance of the law, was seen a suppliant for the pardon of the Nazarene youth; but no concession was obtained, further than a promise that he should be examined concerning his faith; and that no steps should be taken against him until he was proved to be guilty. And even then, if he would acknowledge his error, and publicly renounce it, he should, in consideration of his uncle's virtues, and the respect which was entertained for him, be liberated, and suffered to leave the country. Mary was not unmindful of her promise to exert her influence with Isaac, and had his heart been less hard and his prejudices less violent, her tears and entreaties must have prevailed. He was president of the self-elected council, on whose decree hung the life or death of all who were seized on suspicion of heresy, and consequently his judgment would greatly affect the result of the trial. But he was a bloodthirsty and impenetrable man, with whom power and riches and political ascendancy were the only objects of life. It was to forward these views, and obtain these objects, that he had stooped to seek the favour of the rich and beautiful Mary; and it was the fear of losing them that alone made him listen to her arguments with patience, and affect to reply to them with candour and gentleness. He deceived her into the belief that he would be Theophilus's friend, and with sincere joy she reported her imagined success to Claudia, whose spirits rose with greater elasticity than those of Naomi. Her judgment was less correct than that of her friend, and her spirit more volatile; and while Naomi rejoiced to see her cherishing these hopes, she herself did not dare to entertain them.

The day of trial arrived; and Zadok, in virtue of his priestly office, obtained admission to the council-chamber. It would not have been prudent, even had it been possible, for Amaziah to be present; and he remained with his anxious and almost despairing wife, and the kind and sympathising Salome. Claudia's agitation during these hours of agonizing suspense amounted almost to distraction. She wandered about the house and garden in restless impatience, followed always by her gentle and strong-minded friend, who soothed her irritation, checked her unfounded and sudden hopes, and again supported and cheered her when sinking to despair.

At length the voice of Zadok was heard in the vestibule; and all hastened to meet him, and read in his countenance the destruction or the confirmation of all their hopes. Claudia sprang towards him, and sank at his knees, in such an imploring attitude as if she were pleading to him for the life of her beloved Theophilus.

"Speak, Zadok!" she cried, "tell me if——"

She could not finish the sentence. She could not ask whether he who was so dear to her was condemned to death. Zadok looked on her with pity, and replied:—

"Do not abandon yourself to despair, dear Claudia. Theophilus, indeed, is not acquitted; we could not anticipate that. But no sentence of condemnation is yet pronounced, and time is given him. His sentiments may change, or we may yet work on his judges to release him, and banish him from the country. Believe me, all that I can do in his favour shall be done."

The latter part of the sentence was lost on Claudia. She saw that the fate of Theophilus was sealed, for it depended on his adherence to his religion, which she knew that nothing would ever shake. The dreadful conviction rushed upon her mind that she should never again behold him, and her senses forsook her. Sympathy for her misery diverted the attention of her sorrowing friends; but they all felt a sickening dread of what must follow, and envied the unconsciousness of Claudia. But she soon returned to a sense of the blow which had stunned her, and none could speak comfort to her breaking heart. The parents of Theophilus supported their affliction with more calmness; but it was not less deeply felt. They had learned to look on sorrow as a necessary ingredient in the cup of life, and they could meekly bow to the dispensation of their Heavenly Father, knowing that every event was in his hand, and that their enemies could do nothing but what was overruled and ordained by Him. But sorrow was not forbidden them, and deeply they grieved for the apprehended loss of their amiable and well-beloved son. Javan was present at the council, but he had not on this occasion taken his seat as one of the members. He wished to appear impartial, and forbore to take any part in the trial of his relative; but Isaac knew his sentiments, and there was no fear that either he or any of the counsellors would be too lenient. The prisoner was brought forth to answer to the charge made against him, and accused of heresy and idolatry. He replied with firmness and eloquence, and admirably did he set forth and maintain the blessed doctrines of Christianity. He completely denied all the evil tendency with which those doctrines were charged, and indignantly repelled the foul accusation of idolatry; but openly professed himself a disciple of the despised Jesus, and exulted in the name of Nazarene. His judges were astonished at his boldness, but it only made them more resolved to destroy one who could so powerfully plead the cause of the religion which they hated.

All were unanimous in their opinion that Theophilus was worthy of death, and had it not been for the urgent and powerful entreaties of Zadok, the fatal sentence would have been pronounced upon him immediately. But his uncle's intercessions obtained for him a reprieve of one week, during which time he promised to use all his efforts to induce him to renounce Christianity. Should he be successful, the full acquittal of the prisoner was pledged; but if Theophilus proved obdurate, even Zadok's influence must fail to procure any mercy for him. Isaac affected to plead for him, that a longer delay might be granted, but it was with so little warmth, that it was evident his words were contrary to his wishes, and the undaunted prisoner saw that his fate was sealed. He was remanded to the dungeon from whence he had been brought; but ere he retired Zadok approached him, and embraced him with the greatest affection. He whispered to him words of hope, which sank unheeded on the ear of Theophilus, for he knew that hope was gone in this world, and all he sought was heavenly strength to support him to the last.

"The Lord be merciful to you, my son," said Zadok, "and give you understanding and power to employ the short period of trial which is granted you, in repenting of your errors and returning to the truth. I will visit you daily, and I will supply you with all the holy writings which are calculated to remove the unhappy errors into which, through the wiles of Satan, you have fallen. Now I must hasten home, and tell your anxious friends that yet there is hope, and that it rests with yourself to pronounce the word that shall restore you to them and to liberty."

"Nay, dear uncle," replied Theophilus, "do not seek to deceive my parents. Tell them not to fear that their son will act the part of a hypocrite——"

"Cease, Theophilus," interrupted Zadok, "you will be overheard by those who will misinterpret your words. Farewell. I will say to Claudia that she may yet be happy. For her sake consider, and be wise."

Theophilus shook his head mournfully. The name of Claudia had pierced his heart, but it had not shaken his resolution; and he steadily followed his guards, who now came to conduct him to his cell. Javan did not accompany his father home. He dreaded to meet the reproaches of Claudia and his relatives, and he therefore allowed Zadok to carry to them the tidings of what had occurred. He knew that the part which he had taken in his cousin's apprehension was more than suspected by his family, though he had not acknowledged it, and therefore he felt himself to be the object of their just indignation. He also wished to avoid beholding the sorrow which he had brought on them, lest it should shake his purpose; and he thought himself bound in conscience to show no mercy to a Nazarene, unless he would abjure his creed. He would have rejoiced if Theophilus could thus have been brought to a public recantation; but he did not hope it, for there was something in his cousin's character, and in his demeanour during the trial, that told him he would defy death rather than renounce his opinions. Zadok was far more sanguine. He hoped everything from his own efforts to convince his nephew of his folly, especially when every feeling of the prisoner's heart would plead so powerfully in support of his arguments; and therefore he persisted in speaking cheerfully to his afflicted family, and vainly trying to inspire them with hopes which none but himself entertained.

Mary had eagerly inquired what part Isaac had taken during the trial, and whether he had performed his promise of befriending Theophilus. She was ill satisfied with the replies of Zadok; and when the president visited her on the following day, she reproached him sharply for not having acted more decidedly. Isaac was irritated, but he dared not show his anger, for he knew the quick and ungovernable feelings of Mary, and while so much which was important to him hung on her favour, he thought it wiser to conciliate her by fresh assurances and unmeaning professions.

The lady of Bethezob had taken up the cause of Theophilus, and she was resolved not to abandon it. She told Isaac that she knew it would be in his power to procure his liberation, and that if he did not give her that proof of his affection, she would break off her engagement altogether, and never see him more. Her will had always been a law to those around her, and she would never unite herself to a man who refused to comply with so reasonable, so humane a request. The counsellor was greatly alarmed at this declaration, which threatened the demolition of all his covetous projects, and the disappointment of all his schemes, which were founded on the hope of possessing Mary's wealth. He therefore began seriously to consider whether it would not be his more prudent plan to sacrifice the desire of adding another victim to those who were so soon to seal their faith with their blood; and by obtaining the pardon of Theophilus, to secure to himself the hand and the rich heritage of the widow of Bethezob. His selfish cupidity came in the stead of more generous feelings to make him act the part of a friend towards Theophilus, and he left Mary with a solemn oath that he would not rest until he had accomplished all that she desired.

Isaac hastened from the presence of his betrothed to seek Javan, and immediately informed him of the warm interest which Mary took in the fate of the prisoner, and her positive assertion that the union which he so greatly desired, should depend on the result of his efforts to release him. The counsellor had not doubted that his friend would sympathise in his feelings, and gladly join in any measures that would bring the wealth of Eleazar's daughter into the power of one of his own partisans, and thus forward his grand object of bringing Simon to take the command of the city. But Isaac judged of Javan by himself, and therefore he was mistaken. Javan was a zealous Pharisee and a furious bigot; but in all his conduct, however blamable, he was actuated by what he called religious principle. Self-interest had little weight with him; and though he would have shed the blood of thousands to promote the imaginary honour of God or the glory of his beloved country, he would have scorned to act contrary to the dictates of his conscience to further the personal views either of himself or his friends, and therefore he would not for a moment listen to the suggestions of Isaac. If his own feelings of dislike towards Theophilus had incited him to greater eagerness in seeking his apprehension, he was hardly aware of it himself; and he believed that he was guided by holy zeal for the cause of religion, and the preservation of his family from shame and dishonour. And now that his cousin was a captive, and shut up from the power of disseminating his creed, and also from the possibility of contracting an alliance with a heathen, was it to be expected that he would seek to liberate him, merely to promote the aggrandizement of an individual friend? He spurned the idea, and assured Isaac that nothing but Theophilus's recantation of all his errors would induce him to plead for his pardon; and therefore if such merciful projects now filled his breast, the only way to accomplish them would be to persuade the heretic to return to the true faith, which he feared would never be effected.

This was almost a deathblow to Isaac's hopes, but all his reiterated arguments were unable to shake the stern resolve of Javan; and he proceeded to try whether he could exert more influence over others of the council, and thus bring a majority to adopt his views. With a very few he prevailed, by promised bribes, so far as to obtain a promise that they would not consent to the death of Theophilus; but the rest were too much in Javan's interest, and also too much exasperated against the Nazarenes, to feel any inclination to forego their cruel purpose out of regard to Isaac.

The days passed rapidly away, and the period appointed for the decision of the fate of Theophilus was almost expired. The morrow would be the eventful day; and all the inmates of Zadok's house were absorbed in anxiety and grief. Zadok had visited his nephew constantly, and spent hours in long and patient argument with him, but all in vain. Each evening he returned harassed and distressed; and again each day he set forth with renewed hopes of success in his work of mercy. Amaziah would have persuaded him to forbear his visits, for he knew that his faithful and beloved son would regret that his remaining days should thus be interrupted, and his own pious meditations thus broken in upon. He did not fear that Theophilus would be influenced in the least degree by all that Zadok might urge upon him, for he knew that his faith was strong, and was founded on the Rock of Ages; and therefore all his hopes for the life of his son had expired from the moment that he heard the conditions which had been proposed to him. Yet he still wept and prayed before the Lord, with his afflicted wife and family; for he said, "Who can tell whether the Lord will be gracious to me, that my son may live?" It was from God, and not from man, that he ventured to look for aid; and it was only in accordance with his will that he wished to obtain it. Better far, he knew it would be, that his only son should "depart and be with the Lord," than that by sinfully denying him, he should obtain a prolongation of his earthly life, and lose the life eternal. Judith had grace and strength vouchsafed her to join in all her pious and high-minded husband's feelings; but Claudia, the poor heart-broken Claudia, was tossed to and fro by contending and most afflicting emotions. Sorely was she tempted and tried; and her faith almost gave way. Could it be true religion, she thought, which thus brought its professors into such straits and sorrows? Could it be true religion that demanded the sacrifice of one so good, so valuable as Theophilus, and led him to choose shame and death, and to leave those whose happiness was bound up in him to hopeless misery and desolation? Why should he not speak the word, and return to bless her with his presence? The Father Almighty had been the author of Judaism, and why should Theophilus die an ignominious death, rather than return to the religion in which he had been brought up? Weak and inefficient as these reasonings were, they had power to agitate the mind of Claudia, enfeebled by sorrow and anxiety. Her better feelings told her that such thoughts were both sinful and irrational; and yet she could not entirely conquer them, or still the repinings of her bursting heart. To Naomi she dared not breathe such doubts, for she felt how they would be condemned by her stronger-minded and more devoted friend; but to Salome she expressed her feelings, and even ventured to propose that she should herself address a letter to Theophilus, and send it by the hand of Zadok when he paid him his last visit that evening. She knew the power which she possessed over his affections, and she deceived herself into believing that she was right in employing it for the preservation of his life.

Salome gladly heard her express this wish, and hastened to communicate it to her husband, who warmly approved the plan, and urged Claudia to omit no persuasions which might possibly work on the feelings of Theophilus, and induce him to abandon his present determination to brave the worst that the council could threaten, rather than deny his belief in the Nazarene. With renewed hopes but with a trembling hand, the mistaken girl sat down to address her unhappy Theophilus. Carried away by her own feelings, she suffered herself to become an instrument in the hand of Satan, to tempt the being whom she loved so devotedly to sacrifice his immortal soul for the sake of dwelling a few short years with her on earth! How does the father of lies ofttimes transform himself into an angel of light, and beguile the hearts and understandings of those who do not resist his first whispers, to believe that they are doing God's work, when all the while they are seconding the efforts of his arch-enemy!

Claudia was long in composing her letter. What words could she find sufficiently eloquent to plead with Theophilus for his own life? At length it was finished; and many were the tears which fell on the parchment, and blotted out the words as soon as they were inscribed; but these tears would speak to the heart of him whom she addressed more powerfully than anything she could write: and the epistle was rolled up and carefully secured with a silken cord and a seal. She breathed a prayer for its success as she delivered it into the hand of Zadok: but at that moment the voice of conscience spoke loudly to her heart, and she felt a pang of doubt and fear whether she had acted the part of a servant of God, and whether the object of all her affections would not despise her for her weakness. She trembled with nervous indecision, and whilst she paused and hesitated whether to recall the important letter, Zadok passed quickly from the house, and it was too late. Did she not experience a momentary joy that it was no longer in her power to prevent the manuscript from reaching the hand and eye of Theophilus? She did; but her satisfaction was succeeded quickly by such agonising feelings of remorse and dread that she could hardly support them. Salome could now be no comfort to her, for she could not sympathise in the self-reproach which so suddenly overpowered her, as the conviction pressed upon her mind that she had been a traitor to the "Lord who bought her," and had endeavoured to draw Theophilus into the same dreadful crime. Mary of Bethezob ridiculed her fears, and would have repeated all the arguments by which poor Claudia had persuaded herself to commit the deed which she now so deeply repented: but she would not listen to her—her eyes were opened to a sense of her sin and weakness, and she saw the fallacy of all her reasonings, and the selfishness which had led her to prefer her own happiness to the salvation of her beloved Theophilus. She would listen no longer to the voice of the tempter, but hurried away to search for Naomi, and unburden her oppressed heart to that judicious and most faithful friend. She found her with Judith engaged in humble and fervent prayer for the object of their anxiety; and oh! how was her spirit pierced, and what shame and sorrow did she feel, as she entered the chamber, and heard the concluding words of supplication uttered by Naomi, in a tone of the deepest feeling and most perfect resignation!—".....And oh! most gracious Lord, while, in submission to thy will, we humbly implore thee to look upon our sorrow and turn it into joy, we would yet more earnestly desire that thou wouldst be with the soul of our beloved and afflicted brother, to strengthen him against the temptations that may sorely beset him in this hour of trial. May no fear of death, no thoughts of early affections intrude to weaken his holy resolution, or shake his faith in thee, Lord Jesus. Thou hast called him to thyself. Oh! uphold him with thy right hand, that his footsteps slide not; and whether in life or in death, may he glorify thee, and confess thy name; that so, if thou seest fit to take him from us here, it may be our blessed privilege to meet him again before thy throne, as one who has confessed thee before men, and whom thou wilt confess before thy Father in heaven."

"Amen, amen," responded Judith fervently, while tears coursed down her wan and woe-worn cheeks, and sobs burst from her troubled breast. "Let my son be safe in thy everlasting arms for eternity—and teach this rebellious heart to resign him cheerfully to thee, from whom the blessing came!"

Pale and motionless Claudia remained, until Naomi and Judith rose from their knees. She could not bow down with them, and join in a prayer that breathed a spirit so contrary to the action into which she had just been betrayed. She would have given worlds to recall the fatal letter. She now felt convinced that its only result would be to lower her in the opinion of Theophilus, and perhaps to destroy his affection for her. She ceased to imagine that her arguments and persuasions would shake the resolution that was founded on so pure a faith, and strengthened by the prayers of those who were ready to sacrifice so much from love to the Saviour, and regard to the honour of his name.

"Come hither, my daughter," said Judith, in a voice of tender commiseration, as she looked on her agitated countenance; "come hither, and learn to take comfort from the Source where I have sought and found it. Your trial is heavy indeed: perhaps it is even harder for you to bear this affliction than for me; for I shall yet, by God's mercy, have an affectionate and beloved husband to share my sorrows; and you, my poor Claudia, you will, alas! be very desolate. Nevertheless, there is one Comforter who will never leave you. That 'Friend who sticketh closer than a brother' is ever near to support and strengthen you; and leaning on his Almighty arm, you may bear even the coming hour without repining."

Claudia threw herself into the arms of Judith, and exclaimed, "I have cast off that friend! Oh! my mother, I have been a traitor to Him, and he will sustain me no longer."

"My child," replied Judith, "grief has caused your reason to forsake you. Why do you utter such dreadful words? How can you have cast off the Lord, whose service is a delight to you?"

"I have done worse, Judith," said Claudia, shuddering, and fixing on her a look of such wild grief as terrified both her and Naomi. "Do not interrupt me; I will tell you all, and then you will curse me, and cast me from you, and earth and heaven will abhor me!"

"Cease, dearest Claudia," cried Naomi, approaching the unhappy girl, who shrunk from her as if she felt unworthy of the sympathy of one so pure and good as her friend appeared in her eyes; "compose yourself, for you are labouring under some painful delusion. Why did I let you leave us this morning, and not follow you and bring you back to Judith? I thought you were with my mother, and that her kind sympathy would soothe your mind."

"Why did I leave you, indeed, Naomi!" replied Claudia; "you would have saved me from this crime. Let me speak it all, for my heart will break if I do not confess my sin. I have written a letter to Theophilus, and ere this he has received and read it. I have implored him for my sake to deny his Redeemer,—for my sake to make a profession of returning to Judaism! I told him that he would be my murderer if he spoke the word that would seal his condemnation to-morrow. Oh! I said more than all that—I sought to make myself his idol, and to cause his love for one so despicable to stand between him and his God! He will not heed my guilty ravings, for he is too holy to be infected with such base weakness. But he will loathe me, and despise me as I deserve; and when he is a pure and blessed saint in heaven, I shall have lost the only consolation that could have remained to me—that of knowing that his heart was mine until it ceased to beat; and hoping that when mine was cold in death my spirit might soar above, and join him in those realms of peace which Jesus Christ has promised to those who are faithful to the end."

Judith and Naomi were filled with horror and alarm at this passionate declaration of Claudia's. They grieved deeply that she should have fallen into such a snare of the evil one, and thus have added another and a most bitter trial to those which now surrounded Theophilus. They did not apprehend that his faith would be shaken in the slightest degree; but they knew that nothing could make death so dreadful to him as the belief that Claudia was wavering and unsteady in the religion which he had delighted to teach her, and that when he was no longer at her side, she might sink back into comparative darkness and unbelief. The depth and sincerity of her repentance were most evident to them; and all they now desired was to soothe and tranquillize her mind, and to find some means of conveying to Theophilus the assurance that she was not so unworthy of his affections as her recent conduct might lead him to suppose.

When by their affectionate efforts they had succeeded in calming the violent emotion of their self-condemned and humbled young friend, and convincing her that she had not sinned beyond hope of pardon either from God or man, they proceeded to consider how it would be possible for them to have any further communication with Theophilus. Many difficulties presented themselves; for his place of confinement was strictly guarded, and none could enter the building which contained his cell but the members of the council, or those who were furnished with an order from them. Zadok had received such an order, that he might have the opportunity of holding a controversy with his nephew, and persuading him to save his life: but no other person was permitted to visit him, and Zadok had already gone forth to seek the final and decisive interview. Javan had full power to enter the prison at all times, and to converse with the captives; but how would he ever be induced to convey such intelligence as they wished to communicate? He had absented himself from home almost entirely since the fatal night when his cousin was taken prisoner; and when he did join his family, his manner was so abstracted and reserved, that his presence only tended to increase their unhappiness, and add to their conviction that he was the author of all their sorrow. In spite of all this, Naomi resolved to make an appeal to him, and endeavour to obtain his consent to her having an interview with Theophilus previous to his appearance before the council on the following day.

While the three friends were engaged in this conversation, Amaziah entered the room. He had been absent for many hours, employed in seeking aid from his personal friends in an enterprise which he had determined to attempt, but had not yet confided to his wife. He feared to excite her hopes by telling her of a scheme which might probably end in disappointment; and though she knew that he was labouring to interest his friends in behalf of Theophilus, she believed it was merely with a hope that by their means a majority of the counsellors might be brought to give a favourable judgment. This was a very slender hope, and Judith put no confidence in such an improbable result. She almost regretted that her husband should expose himself so much to observation, and the chance of being apprehended, when no reasonable expectation of any advantage could attend his exertions. Each night when he returned home she greeted him with joy and gratitude that another day of peril had passed away and yet he was unharmed: and every morning when he left the house another burden of grief and anxiety was laid upon her heart; for she felt that he might also be betrayed into the hands of his enemies, and share the fate of her son, notwithstanding the precaution which he always took of being himself well armed, and attended by two or three faithful servants, also provided with weapons.

Amaziah looked thoroughly harassed and worn out with fatigue of mind and body when on this evening ha came home from his wanderings. But his countenance was more cheerful, and his voice more encouraging, as he met the greeting of his wife with affectionate cordiality, and replied to her anxious inquiries concerning his success, and also whether he had met with anything to excite alarm for his own personal safety.

"I have been somewhat cheered by the deep sympathy which is felt for us and our dear boy by all who knew him well; and many have promised to spare no efforts that can in any way assist our cause. But, Judith, do not hope much from this. The council is composed of men who are little disposed to listen to any voice but that of bigotry or selfishness, and the only member of that self-elected tribunal who is favourable to our cause is Isaac. He sees that Mary is resolved to abide by her declaration that the death of Theophilus shall be the rupture of her engagement with him, and therefore he will give his vote for mercy. But Javan will not listen either to him or me, and almost all the other counsellors are devoted to him. Let us not despair, neither let us cherish vain hopes, but say from our hearts, 'the will of the Lord be done!'"

"Yes, my dearest Amaziah, I have, by the help of the Lord, taught my troubled spirit to rest more peacefully on His decrees, and to feel that all is wisdom and all is love. I believe that I can resign my son to the Lord, and refrain from murmuring; and now my most anxious fears are for your safety. Tell me whether it is threatened, or whether the best and greatest earthly blessing that God has given to me is yet permitted to remain and comfort me in the loss of every other?"

"I hope and believe that it is the will of God, my beloved, that we may yet travel on through this wilderness together, to be a solace and delight to each other, as we have hitherto been. But I clearly perceive that this city is no longer a place of safety for us; and whatever it may cost us we must abandon it, and seek a distant refuge, as soon as nothing remains to be hoped or feared for our Theophilus. I have been warned by several friends on whom I can depend, and chiefly by the excellent Benjamin, that many of the Pharisees and counsellors have resolved to effect our ruin and destruction; and that when they have accomplished their cruel purposes against our son, and the rest of the victims whom they now design to glorify with the crown of martyrdom, their next step will be to draw us into the same fate, while they believe we are overwhelmed with sorrow, and may fall an easy prey to their malice. They know not the power of our blessed faith to enable us to triumph over every calamity; and to possess our souls in peace, even when the hand of the enemy is permitted to press heavily upon us."

"O my husband, how your piety and strength of mind support and comfort me, and put all my evil doubts and fears to shame!"

"And how they yet more abase and humble me!" added Claudia, in a trembling voice. "Judith, you will tell Amaziah of my sin and my repentance, and plead with him to pardon me, as you have already done."

Claudia's unhappy story was soon made known to Amaziah; and every extenuation of her fault that kindness could suggest was added by her friend, and received with equal consideration by him whose displeasure she expected and feared, though his regret at the misguided step she had taken was very great. He encouraged Naomi in her intention of seeking permission to see Theophilus, as the only means of removing the unhappy impression which Claudia's letter must undoubtedly produce on his upright and resolute mind; and also as the only opportunity which might be afforded them all of conveying to him their last assurance of undying love, and warm approbation of his faithful and courageous conduct. Naomi went to seek Javan, and found him just entering the vestibule, in company with Zadok. He listened to her request with a stern and somewhat suspicious countenance, and demanded for what purpose it was that she sought an interview with the prisoner.

"It is to carry a last message from my unhappy friend Claudia, and to give him his parents' blessing. They know that he will not purchase life at the expense of his conscience, and before he appears to hear his condemnation to-morrow they would wish to let him know their sentiments."

"They are already well known to others, as well as to Theophilus," muttered Javan; "and they may yet have further cause to rue their folly and imprudence. Why should they encourage their son in his obstinacy?" he added in a louder voice. "Why should they wish to urge him on to self-destruction, and compel me to be accessory to the death of my cousin? I would spare him if I could, but he will listen to no terms, and make no concessions."

"I never witnessed such firmness," said Zadok, and a tear glistened in his eye as he spoke. "That unhappy boy has made me love and respect him more than I ever did; even while he has grieved and angered me by his bold declaration of unshaken belief in the divinity of the Nazarene, and his determined opposition to all my arguments. Truly I believed that the sensible and feeling letter which poor Claudia addressed to him would have brought him to his senses, and shown him the folly of consigning his family to misery for the sake of his wild, unfounded notions. But no; he read it with tears, but they were tears of grief and disappointment, and not of natural sympathy. He showed me the letter; and as he put it in my hand he exclaimed, 'Here is the bitterness of death, when those who love me best prove false to the holy faith which supports me!' From that moment sorrow took possession of his countenance, and he would listen to nothing which I was prepared to urge. I was forced to leave him far more depressed than I have ever seen him; and if you, Naomi, can say ought to lighten the load on his spirit, I will join with you in requesting your brother to give you an order to visit him. He is resolved to die, but I cannot bear that his last moments should thus be clouded with fresh sorrow."

"Oh yes!" cried Naomi, "I can chase away those clouds, and make him calm again. Dear Javan, do not refuse my prayer, but grant to Theophilus the only comfort that can now avail to cheer him. If I could hope to move you to yet greater mercy, I would kneel to you, and weep till the fountain of my eyes was dried up; but I know it will be in vain."

"Speak not to me of pleading for an apostate," said Javan, "or you may lose the boon you have already asked. Were I weak enough to give way to my own feelings of compassion, my companions in the council would better know their duty to God and man than to join me. The life of Theophilus is justly forfeited; but whatever may make his doom more tolerable I will gladly consent to. Swear to me that you have no design for aiding his escape, and I will let you see him."

"I have no object, Javan, but to act as a messenger from his friends. Would to God that they also might visit him!"

"No, Naomi, I am acting contrary to the express orders of the council in permitting any of his relatives, except our revered father, to hold any intercourse with him. It would only add to their own danger to attempt it. If you wish to go to the prison this evening, you must not delay, for night is closing in, and in another hour the prison will be shut, and the gates will not be opened on any pretext until after sunrise."

Javan went to prepare the necessary order for Naomi; and she was hastening to communicate to her anxious friends the result of her errand, when Zadok recalled her.

"Here, my child," he said, "take this letter to Claudia, and tell her that Theophilus bade me say he would have written to her, but he did not possess the means. He told me to give her his most faithful love and dying benediction, and to say that he would try to forget she had written the letter which had caused him more sorrow than anything he had suffered since last he saw her. He said much more, but my own opinions forbid me to repeat the language which in his mistaken zeal he uttered. You will see him yourself; and I only pray that his present situation may act as a warning to you, Naomi, and deter you from persisting in a course which may lead to a repetition of such misery, and cause inexpressible sorrow to your dear mother and to me."

Naomi received the letter, and in silence withdrew, and hurried to the apartment where Claudia was waiting her return, with Amaziah and Judith. The agitated girl listened to the message which was sent by Theophilus, and took the ill-advised manuscript in her hand; but instantly threw it from her with abhorrence, and burst into an agony of tears.

"O Naomi!" she sobbed forth, "he does forgive me, then; but I know he despises me. Tell him my heart is breaking, and that the loss of his esteem was the last blow that was wanting to crush me to the earth."

"Dear Claudia," replied Naomi, "he will love you as sincerely and as fervently as ever when he knows how true your repentance is, and remembers that it was excess of love to him that led you to seek his preservation in a way that your own conscience condemned. I will go to him, and say all that you could wish. I strove to obtain permission for you and his parents to see him, but Javan would not hear of it. Farewell for one hour, and fear not but that Theophilus will be restored to peace by what I shall tell him."

Christian Ladies