Naomi

by Mrs. J. B. Webb

CHAPTER XVIII.

Zadok and Naomi were shocked, on their return home, to see how greatly the recent melancholy events had left their traces on the appearance of Salome. For some time past her health and strength had declined, and it was evident that the anxiety she had suffered from so many causes, and the shock which her feelings had undergone at the lamentable termination, had been too much for her delicate constitution to sustain uninjured. Her spirits were broken, and Naomi frequently excited all her powers in vain to animate and interest her. Her mind was filled with gloomy forebodings of coming woe; and though the sweetness of her manner was undiminished, and her affectionate kindness unabated, yet there was ever a pensive sadness in her look and voice, that sank into Naomi's heart with a painful emotion of dread.

Mary of Bethezob repaired to her own dwelling soon after the return of Zadok, and her blooming and intelligent boy accompanied her; but he had become so much attached to Salome and Naomi, that great part of his time was passed with them, and by his innocent playfulness, he greatly helped to chase away their sorrows, while his thoughtless and light-hearted mother plunged again into gaiety and dissipation, and soon forgot all that had so deeply interested her while she was under Zadok's roof.

The priest himself was at this time much from home, for his counsel was sought by those who were most active in the affairs of the city; and as he had lately become a warm supporter of Javan's scheme for bringing Simon to take the supreme command, his son gladly availed himself of his influence and his eloquence in persuading others to join their party. All the necessary arrangements were soon completed; and Javan departed on his mission to invite the son of Gioras and his troops to enter the walls, and rid the oppressed inhabitants of every tyranny but their own. Not many days after he had left the city, alarming news reached the chiefs and leaders: Vespasian had once more set his troops in motion, and was rapidly passing through the toparchies of Gophnitis and Acrabatane. A few more days passed away, during which the inhabitants of Zion looked forth anxiously for the approach of Simon, as the only succour that could avail them if the Roman arms should be turned against their city; but he came not—and instead of his friendly troops, the cavalry of Vespasian appeared at the gates of Jerusalem. A panic seized the populace at this unexpected sight; but their fears were of short duration, for the dreaded horsemen only remained a few days in the vicinity of the city, and having ascertained the distracted and divided state of the inhabitants, withdrew again to head-quarters, and left the devoted place to be yet further weakened by its domestic enemies.

The terrace at the back of Zadok's house commanded a view of the fields beyond the walls, and in that direction the noble equestrian band, the flower of Vespasian's army, passed by, as they retired from the city. They had traversed its whole circumference, and taken observations of its strength, and the capability of its walls and towers. Naomi knew that Marcellus belonged to this troop; and it was not surprising that when she heard the trumpets echoing along the side of Mount Olivet, she should look anxiously from the terrace-wall, and strain her eyes to distinguish him among the rest of the cavaliers. She believed that she succeeded, and perhaps she was right, for one of that band tarried behind his companions, and turned his head long towards the spot where she stood; but if it were Marcellus he did not perceive her, for he rode on without any signal of recognition; and she returned to her mother to lament that she should thus be divided, by all the obstacles of war, from the being who was so well deserving of her affection.

Meanwhile one of the Roman commanders named Cerealis had passed to the south, and entering Idumea, had taken Caphethra, Capharabis, and Hebron. Almost every strong place was now in the hands of the Romans, and nothing remained for their conquering arms to subdue but Herodium, Machærus, Masada, and Jerusalem itself. Simon had secured himself and his forces in his stronghold at Masada while the enemy were reducing Idumea; but when Cerealis withdrew from that district, he again came forth and ravaged the already wasted country. He drove a vast number of the wretched population before his pursuing army towards Jerusalem, where they sought a refuge from his cruelty, and once more he encamped before the walls, to wait for the opening of the gates to admit him.

Javan had joined him at Masada, and now accompanied him to Jerusalem, expecting that he would be joyfully received by the inhabitants. But the Roman cavalry had left the vicinity; and the party who opposed Simon's entrance had gained a temporary ascendancy, so that the gates remained rigorously closed, and the chieftain revenged himself for his disappointment by putting to the sword all the unfortunate stragglers who ventured beyond the protection of the walls. Thus he warred on the unhappy city without, while John of Gischala oppressed it within. The hardy Galileans whom he had brought into Jerusalem with him were entirely corrupted by the pillage and license which he permitted to them. Robbery had become their constant occupation, and murders were daily committed by them in wanton pastime. Disguised in rich and splendid garments which they had acquired by rapine, they paraded the streets in parties; and suddenly drawing their swords, that were always concealed beneath their assumed garb of festivity, they rushed on the thoughtless populace who gazed on them, and fiercely stabbed all who came within their reach. No wonder that the helpless people looked abroad for help and succour, and that even many of the more enlightened believed that the presence of Simon would put a stop to these atrocities. But John was too powerful to permit the execution of the scheme at that moment, and had his rapidly-increasing party remained united together, he would probably have prevented the entrance of his rival.

At length, however, a division arose among his followers. His power excited the jealousy of the Idumeans, and they suddenly attacked the Zealots, and drove them to seek refuge in a palace near the temple, which was used by John as a treasure-house. Into this edifice they followed them, and forced them to fly to the temple itself, while they pillaged the palace of all the rich treasures that John had accumulated and stored up within its walls. But the Zealots assembled in overwhelming force in the temple, and in their turn threatened to attack the Idumeans, who did not so much dread their strength in open fight, as their desperation at being thus cooped up. They feared that they might sally out and set fire to the city, and so accomplish the utter destruction both of themselves and their enemies. Therefore they called together a council of the chief priests to consider what measures should be taken, and by their advice they adopted that plan which gave the final blow to every hope of a return to peace and tranquillity.

The historian Josephus, in relating this circumstance, remarks that "God overruled their wills to that most fatal measure." And most true is it that He does thus overrule every event, and cause all things to work together for the accomplishment of his own most wise purposes. The priests unanimously advised that Simon should be invited to enter. All were now of one mind, and believed that no tyranny could be worse than the violence and license that now distracted the city and filled its peaceable inmates with alarm and horror. Matthias the high-priest, who from his situation rather than his talents exercised great influence over his brethren, supported the proposition, and even offered to go in person and bring in the expected preserver. He went forth, attended by a body of the principal men; and amid the joyful shouts of the misguided populace the son of Gioras marched through the streets, and established himself, without opposition, in the higher parts of the city.

Thus he became lord of Jerusalem in the third year of the war; and having once got an entrance into the city, he lost no time in securing everything that could tend to his own advantage and raise his authority higher over every rival faction. John and his Zealots finding themselves imprisoned in the temple, and totally unable to make their way out, began to fear that their lives would be sacrificed as well as their property, the whole of the effects which they possessed in the city having already been seized and appropriated by Simon and his followers. The new tyrant hastened to make an attack on the temple, assisted by numbers of the populace and had he succeeded in gaining an entrance, doubtless he would have realized the worst fears of the besieged, and put them all to the sword. But the Zealots had posted themselves in the porticoes and among the battlements, and they vigorously repulsed their enemies, killing and wounding many of Simon's men with the spears and darts which they hurled down from these elevated situations with unerring hand. To increase still more this advantage which they enjoyed over their assailants, they erected four lofty towers; and from these they plied their arrows and other missiles with little danger to themselves, and great annoyance to the foe. They brought powerful engines for casting stones into each of these towers, besides the archers and slingers; and so great was the dread with which these machines inspired Simon's adherents, that considerable numbers of them declined the attack. One of these formidable towers was placed on the north-east corner of the temple, the second above the Xystus, the third looked down upon the lower city, and the fourth was built above the Pastophoria, where the priests were accustomed to sound the silver trumpets at the commencement and termination of each sabbath.

Affairs were in this state at Jerusalem, and Vespasian having subdued almost every contiguous place, returned to Cæsarea to await the result of the civil commotions in the capital, when news was brought him that Vitellius had assumed the imperial purple at Rome. This intelligence excited great indignation among Vespasian's officers and soldiers, who assembled in large companies, and declared that they would never submit to be governed by the cruel and licentious Vitellius, and that they had as much right to elect an Emperor as the troops who were dwelling idly at Rome. They therefore resolved to proclaim their general as Emperor, and to support his authority with their swords. For some time Vespasian declined taking on himself the heavy responsibilities of such an exalted station, but the tribunes only insisted the more strenuously on his complying. The soldiers even drew their swords and threatened to put him to death if he refused: when, finding all his repeated remonstrances to be vain, he yielded to their wishes; and after his proclamation, Josephus, who had foretold his exaltation, was set free from his bonds, and rewarded with great honours as a distinguished prophet, and became the friend and adviser of Vespasian. The Emperor's time and attention were for some months necessarily occupied in establishing his dominion, and gaining over the adherence of the governors of the most important provinces of the empire, and Jerusalem was left to her own miseries and distractions. But at the commencement of the ensuing year (A.D. 70) he found himself firmly settled on the imperial throne. Vitellius had been defeated, and his death left the new Emperor at leisure to think of the reduction of the rebellious and obstinate city, which had so long bade defiance to his power. He did not again go in person to attempt its subjugation, but his son Titus was placed at the head of the army, and sent to complete the conquest of Palestine by the reduction of the metropolis.

During this time Marcellus had been obliged to remain at Cæsarea with his regiment, and had vainly sought permission to venture to Jerusalem, and try to gain an entrance, and visit his betrothed Naomi. The strict discipline of the Roman army forbade his running so great a personal risk when it was not called for in the service of the Emperor; and he passed these long months in anxiety and hope, waiting for the renewal of the war as the only event which could lead to the accomplishment of his wishes. He did not doubt that the capital would speedily yield to the efforts of the army, when its combined force should be collected beneath its walls; and then he trusted that no obstacle would remain to his marriage with Naomi. It was therefore with great joy that he hailed the arrival of his friend and commander, Titus, as generalissimo of the Roman forces, and heard the orders for an immediate march towards the capital, as soon as the army could be organized and prepared for the siege.

The news of Titus having assumed the command soon reached the miserable city, and filled the greater part of the inhabitant with dismay. They knew his prompt and warlike character, and the devotion which the whole army entertained for him; and they feared that, at the head of such a force, he would never be repulsed from their walls by the divided and seditious troops who now wasted their strength in useless conflicts with each other. No events could have occurred more favourable to the success of the Romans than those which were taking place at this time in Jerusalem. The city was now divided into three distinct factions, and the streets ran with the blood which was shed in their fierce and continual encounters. Instead of endeavouring to organize a regular and efficient defence against the common enemy, each party was engaged in strengthening its own position, or attacking that of its antagonists.

Eleazar, who had been the first to set himself at the head of the Zealots, and seize on the temple as a garrison, beheld the superiority which was assumed by John of Gischala, with rage and jealousy. He affected a holy indignation at the sanguinary outrages daily committed by his rival; and at length he succeeded in drawing off from his party several of the most powerful and influential of his adherents. With these men and their followers he openly abandoned his former associates who remained faithful to John, and retired into the inner court of the temple, where, on the sacred gates facing the Holy of Holies, these savage men suspended their arms, yet reeking with the blood of their fellow-citizens.

In this most sacred spot, where the sounds of the holy instruments of music were wont to be heard, the jests and songs of the profane soldiery now echoed from the walls, and on the steps of the altar lay the expiring forms of men mortally wounded by their own countrymen. A great number of animals intended for sacrifices, and a quantity of other provisions, were found in the stores of the temple, and seized on by Eleazar and his band, who were therefore well supplied with provisions; but they could not venture to sally out on the main body of the Zealots, who so greatly exceeded them in numbers. The height of their position gave them a superiority over John's party, so long as they remained in their stronghold; but though he suffered greatly in every attack which he made on them, yet his rage and resentment would not suffer him to cease from his attempts.

Meanwhile Simon the son of Gioras kept possession of the whole of the upper city and great part of the lower, and he harassed John continually from without, increasing his efforts when he found that his party was weakened by division. But John had here the advantage over Simon that Eleazar had over John, and he succeeded in repelling his assaults with little loss. The ascent to the temple was very steep, and Simon's troops found it both difficult and perilous, for the Zealots had a large number of scorpions, catapultas, and other engines, and with these they repulsed their assailants from below, and checked the party who looked down on them from above. Frequently it happened that the missiles which they discharged against Eleazar and his band, either slew or wounded those unoffending and pious persons who still continued to repair to the spot so hallowed to their memories, in order to offer their prayers and their sacrifices. Not all the horrors and dangers that surrounded them could deter many of the inhabitants of Jerusalem, and even strangers from other provinces, from making their way to the temple where their fathers had worshipped; and passing over the marble pavement, now slippery with gore and strewed with the carcasses of the slain, to lay their offerings on the altar of the God of Jacob.

These persons were freely permitted to pass to and fro, unmolested by the garrison, who merely took the precaution of searching them, to discover whether they carried concealed arms; but often, while they were engaged in fervent prayer, they sank expiring on the pavement, either pierced by an arrow or crushed by a heavy stone that came whizzing from the courts below. The noble and pious Zadok was seen to take his place undauntedly by the side of the altar, and to perform his sacred duties with a composure and dignity that commanded the respect even of the lawless and blaspheming ruffians who looked on in scoffing derision at the superstition (as they regarded it) of the worshippers. Many of his sacred brethren were wounded or slain, but he remained unharmed, and daily returned in safety to his anxious wife and daughter, to tell of greater horrors and fiercer conflicts than had disgraced the preceding day.

ZADOK AT THE ALTAR.

More and more deadly did the contest become. Eleazar's band, excited by drunkenness, ventured to sally forth against John, and when, wearied with bloodshed, they retired again to their garrison, he in his turn assaulted Simon. The whole space around the temple became a fearful spectacle of ruin and carnage; and in these wild conflicts the public granaries, that might have sustained the inhabitants for years, were either set on fire or wantonly destroyed by Simon, to prevent their falling into the hands of John.

Thus was the wretched city afflicted. The very power which the short-sighted people had invoked to free them from the tyranny of John, was turned against them and multiplied their miseries. The old men, the women, the helpless and the timid prayed in secret for the arrival of the Romans. They had dreaded this event as the worst of evils when first they heard it threatened; but now they were driven to desperation by their accumulated sufferings, and earnestly desired a foreign foe, as the only hope of deliverance from their domestic enemies. These wishes were, however, carefully repressed, for all the three factions were united on one point—the persecution and destruction, of every individual whom they even suspected of wishing success to the Roman arms. It was sad indeed to behold the deep but silent misery of the people; and still more dreadful was it to witness the inhuman desperation and hardheartedness to which constant danger and constant suffering had driven all ranks of men. The ties of natural affection were extinguished, the nearest relatives were abandoned, and when death had put an end to their woes, their bodies were left unheeded in the streets, to be trampled on by the troops or torn by the dogs.

Javan had entered the city with the son of Gioras, and was constantly engaged in his service. Simon confided all his schemes to him, and found him a most useful and efficient counsellor, as he was thoroughly acquainted with all the politics that divided the opinions of the inhabitants: and his local knowledge of the many private streets and lanes of the city was also an advantage to his chieftain, and enabled him to waylay and surprise the parties which were sent out by John. Javan devoted all his time and all his energies to the promotion of the cause which he had espoused, for he still believed that Simon was the destined instrument in the hand of Jehovah for the preservation of his people, and the destruction of all their enemies within and without the city. His pious and enthusiastic feelings were highly excited to indignation at the profaneness of the Zealots and Idumeans, and the sight of the Holy Temple desecrated by crime and bloodshed and intemperance, filled him with a restless and inextinguishable desire for vengeance.

Isaac, his former friend, but now most bitter enemy, knew his strong religious feelings, and the almost superstitious veneration with which he regarded the sacred pile, and mourned over its degradation. The counsellor had once affected to share and encourage these devout sentiments, when such a line of conduct seemed to promote his own interests; but now that he had severed himself from the popular party, and joined that of the infidel John, he laid aside the cloak of hypocrisy, and rivalled the worst of his ruffian associates in acts of sacrilege and words of blasphemy. One day, when a party of Simon's troops were led by Javan to the temple wall, in order to assault the Zealots with darts and arrows, he seized on some of the sacred implements used in the service of the temple, and hastened to insult the feelings of the zealous young Pharisee, by profaning them to the most disgusting purposes. On the knives and pronged forks usually employed in preparing and dressing the sacred victims offered in sacrifice, he stuck the mangled limbs of the human bodies that were strewed around him in the court, and the brazen vessels he filled with human blood, and then cast them over the wall, where they fell at Javan's feet, crying out scoffingly that he presented him with suitable sacrifices, and holy instruments for preparing them. The blood of the fiery Jew burned at this sacrilegious affront, and deeply he vowed to be avenged on his insulting foe; but Isaac was now safe from his wrath, and laughed at his futile rage. Perchance it might be Javan's turn to triumph ere long!

That evening he returned to his father's house, gloomy and sad. Since his entry into the city in Simon's train, he had seldom visited his home, even at night. He felt such an irksome restraint in the presence of his family, particularly of Naomi, that any spot was more agreeable to him than the home of his childhood, and he generally dwelt at the palace, of which Simon had taken possession, as his head-quarters. On the night after his religious feelings had been outraged by Isaac, he repaired to Zadok's dwelling, that he might consult with his father on the future plans to be adopted by their party; and having held a private conference with him, he joined the rest of his family, who were walking on the terrace at the back of the house. This terrace, and the small flower-garden which it overlooked, were now the only spots where Salome and Naomi could safely enjoy the open air, except occasionally when they ventured by the retired lane that ran below the garden, to visit Mary of Bethezob, and spend some time with her, in the more extensive pleasure-ground that adjoined her house. Even this short distance they never dared to go unattended by their domestics, who were well armed; and Mary used the same precaution whenever she repaired to the priest's house. She and her little boy were on the terrace when Javan and his father passed through the richly-carved marble portico that opened upon it from the house, and joined the party.

All the cheerfulness of social and domestic intercourse had died away beneath the chilling influence of danger and dread, and when friends and relatives met together it was only to relate fresh horrors and anticipate coming woes. The spirit of Zadok was yet unsubdued, and his confident hopes unchecked, by the misery and distress around him; but his wife did not share his sanguine feelings, and Naomi remembered the doom which had been pronounced on Jerusalem by Him whose every word must be fulfilled. Therefore she could not cheer her desponding mother with the prospect of peace and tranquillity, when she knew that these blessings would no more be bestowed on her nation until the measure of their chastisement should be fulfilled, and the Messiah once more return in glory to rule over his ransomed and repenting people. She looked forward to the approaching crisis with a steady expectation, trusting to the infinite wisdom and love of her Redeemer, to guard his own believing children from the ruin that should overtake his enemies. But she could not think of the probable fate of her beloved father and her mistaken brother without a profound dread. They as yet despised the only way of salvation—and how should they be saved in the day of calamity? She daily wept and prayed before her God that he would mercifully incline their hearts to receive the truth, and in these prayers she found her best consolation. She had now no Christian friend to whom she could confide her anxious cares, or who could share her spiritual feelings and spiritual hopes; but her precious manuscript, the legacy of her beloved Mary, was an unfailing source of comfort and delight, when she could retire to her own chamber and peruse the sacred record.

Much of her time also was passed in private conversation with her mother; for Zadok was seldom able to remain with her for many hours of the day, and Salome's spirits were so depressed that her daughter never left her alone, but exerted her utmost powers to cheer and support her. She entered kindly into all the hopes and fears of Naomi which related to Marcellus, and rejoiced in the prospect of confiding her to the care and protection of one whom she had always loved and esteemed. She was not so much prejudiced against his Roman birth as her husband was; and since Naomi had embraced the Nazarene doctrines, her mother rejoiced for her sake that she was betrothed to one who would respect her sentiments.

It was not however on the subject of her own prospects and her own interests that Naomi chiefly delighted to dwell when conversing with her mother. There was another and a higher theme, towards which she drew Salome's thoughts whenever they were alone; and it was a source of joy and gratitude to her when she found that the subject was no longer shunned. Salome had formerly avoided all discussions and arguments relating to the Christian faith, in compliance with the wishes of her husband, and because she did not desire to be convinced of the truth of what he so entirely despised and disbelieved. Nevertheless, the impression which had once been made on her mind in favour of the doctrines of the Nazarenes, by the conversation of Amaziah, and her daughter, had never been entirely obliterated. The heroic constancy and faith that had been displayed in the conduct of the lamented Theophilus, had also most deeply interested her; and she could not help thinking that there must be some miraculous power in that faith which could thus disarm death and shame of their terrors, and make its disciples more than conquerors over all that naturally binds the heart of man to life.

When, therefore, her daughter resumed the subject after her return from Joppa, she was very willing to listen to her animated discourse. The more she heard of Jesus of Nazareth, the more was her gentle spirit inclined to believe the story of his love to fallen mankind, and to rest upon it for the peace and safety of her soul. During the dreary months of fear and horror that succeeded the entrance of Simon into the city, the necessary seclusion and retirement in which she and Naomi lived, gave her ample time to hear and to reflect on all the wonders that it was her daughter's happiness to relate, and she did not hear in vain. The earnest, the constant prayers of Naomi were heard in her behalf, and the spark of faith at length was kindled in her heart. Faint and flickering it burned, and it seemed that a single blast of opposition would have extinguished it; but he who doth not "break the bruised reed, nor quench the flame of smoking flax," was merciful to this feeble disciple, and spared her those trials which she was not yet able to bear.

Zadok was fully engrossed by his political and his priestly occupations; and during the short intervals which he passed with Salome, he exerted himself to cheer and encourage her spirits, and chase away the fears that oppressed her; and he never questioned her as to the topic of her conversation with Naomi during his absence, nor did she ever mention it to him. She began to feel that the salvation of her soul was concerned in the question of the truth or falsity of Naomi's statements, and she would not run the risk of having a termination put to those discussions that now so deeply interested her.

Some hours had been passed by the mother and daughter in considering and discoursing on the unhappy fate of Theophilus, and the believing hope which had supported him to the end, on the evening when Javan came from the conflict beneath the temple walls, and sought the society of his family. Their conversation had already been interrupted by the arrival of Mary and their little favourite David, who was now bounding along the terrace, and trying to engage Naomi to pursue him and join in his gambols. He ran laughing over the marble pavement, looking back at his young friend, who exerted herself to banish more serious thoughts that she might amuse the lovely child, when his course was arrested by the entrance of Javan and his father. They abruptly crossed his path, and the stern expression of Javan's countenance put a sudden stop to his mirth and Naomi's efforts at gaiety. There was something in the childish look of fear with which David regarded the young Pharisee that touched his heart and grieved him. "Am I," thought he, "an object of terror to all around me? and do even children dread my presence?"

He stooped down, and raised the little boy gently in his arms, while he whispered to him, "Why are you afraid of me, David?"

"Because my nurse tells me that you killed poor Theophilus," replied the child, in a trembling voice.

Javan set him down again on the pavement, and a dark cloud came over his brow. "Then I am looked on as a murderer!" he muttered: "this shall not be."

He approached his mother and Naomi; and though they tried to meet him with affectionate cordiality, yet there was a restraint in their manner, and a quiver on their lip, that told him plainly how his presence recalled the memory of the departed Theophilus, and how entirely the innocent child had spoken their feelings in attributing to him the death of his cousin. He was growing weary of the scenes of strife and bloodshed in which he had lived since his return to the metropolis with Simon. His zeal in the cause of the son of Gioras had not abated, nor his resolution to dedicate his life, if necessary, to the restoration of the peace and prosperity of his beloved city; but when the daily conflict was over, he had often wished that he could retire to his home in the confidence of being received as a welcome visitor. He longed to find in the society of his family, whom with all his faults he sincerely loved, a respite from the cares and anxieties that weighed on his mind, and to forget for a time the spectacles of horror and vice that met his eyes while he was actively engaged in carrying on the siege of the temple, or traversing the streets to prosecute some scheme of his crafty chieftain's. The conviction that he had lost all the esteem which he had enjoyed among his immediate relatives from his cruel persecution of his amiable cousin, had made his home disagreeable to him, and he would have made great sacrifices to regain his former place in his family. Perhaps even now it was in his power to remove a part of the stain that rested on his character, and to make his sister at least look on him more kindly.

While he was absorbed in reflections that seemed in some degree to chase away the gloom that had so long rested on his countenance, Naomi had passed to the other end of the terrace, in compliance with the earnest entreaty of little David; and having descended the marble steps that led into the flower-garden, was occupied in weaving a chaplet of bright and fragrant flowers to adorn his curling hair. Javan followed her, and as he approached the graceful vase from which she was gathering clusters of rich blossoms, and contemplated her sweet countenance, and the animated, joyful face of the little David, a smile of unwonted cheerfulness played on his features. He stood silently by her side until her task was done, and then sent the delighted child back to his mother and Salome to claim their admiration of his flowery crown. How lovely he looked! His bright beaming countenance and joyous spirit seemed to promise years of innocence and happiness. Alas! his beauty was like that of the flowers he wore—so sweet, so delicate, and so short-lived!

Javan and Naomi walked together in the garden below until the daylight had faded away, and the stars of night were glittering in all their splendour in the dark blue vault of heaven. The other members of their family had retired to the house, as they feared the effects of the night-air on the delicate frame of Salome. Their curiosity was greatly excited by the earnest and protracted conference between the brother and sister; and when at length they joined them in the cedar-hall, they were struck with surprise and pleasure at the unusual degree of cheerfulness that reigned on the countenances of both; nor did the concluding words of the conversation which reached their ears, as Naomi and her brother crossed the adjoining vestibule, give them any clue to the cause of the change.

"For six months, Naomi—remember, you have given me your solemn promise."

"I will not break it, Javan," she replied, "though you have put me to a severe trial."

The evening meal passed off with unwonted gaiety, for Naomi, the life and joy of her family, had resumed much of her former spirits, and her parents were happy in seeing her so, though they were ignorant of the cause.