Naomi

by Mrs. J. B. Webb

CHAPTER XXVI.

This was no time for the indulgence of sorrow. Soon after the green turf was laid over the grave of Salome, a messenger arrived from Simon to demand the immediate appearance of Javan at the temple, as the gates were about to be fired by order of Titus, and every hand was required to prevent the execution of the dreadful project. Javan hurried to the spot, accompanied by his father and Theophilus, and they found that all the fears of the besieged were realized. Blazing torches had been applied to the gates, and the plates of silver that covered them had become intensely heated. The wooden framework had caught fire, and as they entered the court they saw the flames spring up in several directions. They joined their companions and friends in exhorting the soldiers to make every effort to extinguish the fire or arrest its further progress; but a panic had seized the men, hitherto so dauntless, and in silent dismay they watched the flames rising higher and fiercer, until in a short time they were communicated to the inner cloisters. The besieged now saw a circle of fire spreading round them, and destruction threatening themselves and their magnificent temple. All day the flames raged with violence, and the whole of the rich and beautiful cloisters were in ruins, while the officers and leaders of the Jews used ineffectual efforts to rouse their men from the state of consternation into which they and sunk. At night, Zadok and Theophilus returned to Naomi for a few hours, but Javan remained with his chieftain, resolved to share his dangers and assist his councils.

When morning dawned Zadok prepared to leave his home once more, and join his son amid the burning walls of the sacred edifice, to defend them, or to perish beneath their ruins. Naomi felt a dark foreboding, as her father came to bid her farewell, that it might be the last time she should receive his affectionate embrace, or listen to a benediction from his lips.

"Oh, my father," she cried, while she fell at his feet and embraced his knees, "do not leave me—do not rush into certain destruction. The hour is at hand when our city will be trodden by the Gentiles, and it is in vain to resist the decrees of Heaven. Tarry with me, I implore you, and let me meet death by your side."

"Do not abandon yourself to despair, my child," replied Zadok, raising her from the ground and pressing her fondly to his heart. "All is not yet lost; and though my hopes of triumph and deliverance are fading away, yet still there may be an effectual resistance made to the enemy, and we may obtain terms from the conqueror. I will return to you if immediate danger threatens the city, and Theophilus shall remain to support and comfort you. A sacred duty calls me to the temple, and as a servant of the living God I must not abandon His sanctuary. Farewell, my Naomi; may the blessing of the Almighty rest upon you."

He left her, and she gazed after him through her tears until the gates of the courtyard closed behind him and hid his manly form from her view. Theophilus would not leave his cousin alone to her grief and apprehensions. He knew that his presence in the temple could be of no avail to arrest the approaching ruin, and therefore he remained to cheer the drooping spirit of Naomi, and if necessary, to die in her defence.

It was now the 10th of August, that fatal day which had already proved so calamitous to Jerusalem, when the Temple of Solomon was destroyed by the Babylonian king. Titus beheld the spreading flames that threatened the total demolition of the second glorious temple of Jehovah, and he was moved to pity that so much splendour and beauty should be laid in ruins. He called a council of war, and solemnly discussed with his officers the question whether the sacred edifice should be preserved, or left to the effects of the destroying element. Many of his advisers were of opinion that the temple should no longer be regarded as a sanctuary, but as a fortress, and that it ought to be treated like any other stronghold of rebellion. But Titus was inclined towards milder measures. The magnificence of the building had struck him with profound admiration, and he wished to preserve it as one of the proudest ornaments of the Roman empire. In this desire he was seconded by several of his principal officers, and by Marcellus more warmly than the rest, and orders were instantly issued for the soldiers to unite their efforts to extinguish the flames.

It was in vain; a higher decree than that of Titus had doomed the temple to destruction, and his legions were unable to stay the course of the sword of Divine vengeance. While they toiled in fruitless zeal for the preservation of the devoted building, the Jews suddenly roused themselves and shook off the terror which had kept them inactive all the preceding day and night, and desperate thoughts of vengeance seized on their minds. Led on by Simon and Javan, they made a furious sally from the eastern gate upon the guards who were posted in the outer court. The Romans locked their shields together and received the shock with unbroken ranks; but such multitudes of the besieged came rushing upon them that Titus himself was obliged to come to their defence, and with a choice band of men he at length succeeded in repulsing the Jews, and driving them back from the court into the temple again. He then withdrew into the Antonia, intending to make a general and final assault on the following morning. After he had retired, a party of the besieged, not discouraged by their repulse in the morning, made another attack upon the soldiers who were still employed in extinguishing the fire in the cloisters. The Romans drove them back, and followed them within the sacred precincts even to the door of the temple itself. One of the legionaries, animated with fury and a love of destruction, climbed on the shoulders of a comrade who stood before him, and threw a lighted torch through a small gilded door into the porch. The flames at once sprang up, and the Jews uttered one wild and general shriek of consternation and rage, and grasping their swords, resolved to revenge the sacrilegious act and perish in the ruins of the temple. Titus was asleep when Marcellus rushed into his chamber with the startling intelligence that the temple was on fire. He started up, and they both hastened to the spot, which was already crowded with Roman soldiers. With shouts and gestures the general commanded his men to quench the flames, but his voice was unheeded or drowned in the deafening clamour that surrounded him.

The legionaries rushed on: many of them cast flaming torches into the inner court, and then, drawing their swords, turned to the work of slaughter. Thousands fell in the first onset, and the temple steps flowed with blood, though Titus made every exertion in his power to put a stop to the carnage. He entered the temple with his officers, and gazed in wonder and admiration on the matchless splendour that met his view. As yet the holy place was untouched by the fire, and he made a last effort to save it. But one of the soldiers privately contrived to thrust a torch between the hinges of the door, and in a few moments the building was enveloped in flames. Titus and his companions were forced to retire, and the whole of the glorious structure was abandoned to ruin. One by one the different parts of the building fell in with a tremendous crash. The cedar roofs became a sheet of flame, and the towers and pinnacles rose in columns of fire high above the rest of the edifice. The light spread far and wide, and was reflected from the neighbouring hills with a lurid glow.

At this awful moment the son of Ananus once more appeared. Wild and ghastly he stalked through the courts of the temple, and mounted the tottering wall. He gazed around him on the scene of desolation that so fearfully fulfilled his oft-repeated prophecy. Then he cried with a loud voice, "Woe to myself!" and as he spoke, a stone that was cast from the engines below struck him, and he fell backward a corpse in the flaming ruins.

What were the sensations of the horror-stricken inhabitants when they were aroused by the shout that burst from the temple when the conflagration broke out! They looked towards the holy hill, and beheld its summit a mass of glowing flames. Fear and wrath and dire revenge animated the pale countenances of these famished and woe-worn men; and from the streets of the upper city were heard such cries of anguish and despair as reached the rocks and hills around, and were echoed back to mingle with the shouts of the Roman soldiers, and the dying groans of those who were perishing in the flames. In the midst of the confusion John of Gischala, ever intent on his own preservation, rushed out of the temple with a band of Zealots, and succeeded in forcing his way through the crowd and reaching the upper city in safety. At a later period a larger body of his adherents also took refuge there; but the priests and the greater portion of the Jewish leaders remained in the burning pile.

Every part of the temple was ransacked by the Roman soldiers, who climbed over heaps of slain to seize on the treasures that gleamed on all sides. The wealth that had been laid up by the Zealots was discovered and borne away, with the gold and jewels and rich vestments belonging to the service of the sanctuary; and even the bodies of the slaughtered priests were stripped of their embroidered vests and ornamented girdles by the rapacious hands of the victorious troops. One small band of Romans were seen hurrying through the courts, engaged in a different pursuit to that of their fellow-soldiers. They were Marcellus and a few of his faithful friends seeking to discover and save Zadok the priest. They were passing by the altar where he had been wont to minister in his course, when they observed a Roman soldier tearing away the golden clasp from the girdle of a slaughtered priest. Marcellus sprang forward, and beheld the lifeless countenance of Naomi's father. He had fallen beside the altar, and his features even in death wore the expression of dignified calmness that seldom deserted him in any event of life. Marcellus had arrested the plundering hand of the soldier, and as he stooped to replace the vestments of the priest, his eye fell on a roll of parchment that had been concealed in the folds of his garment. He took it up, and what was his astonishment at perceiving that it was a copy of the Gospel of Jesus Christ! Could it be possible that Zadok believed that Gospel? He secured the precious volume in his own vest, and with the assistance of his comrades bore the body of the priest to that part of the building where the fire was spreading most rapidly. They cast it into the flames, and left it to be consumed on that glorious funeral pile; safe from the insults which were heaped on the mangled forms of his brethren by the brutal soldiery.

This pious act performed, Marcellus sought for his commander, and obtained from him permission to lead a sufficient body of men from the temple to secure the house and family of Zadok from injury. Already a number of persons had escaped from the burning ruins, and were rushing distractedly through the streets of the lower city and that portion of the town which was connected with the temple. They were pursued by parties of the victorious troops, and the alarm was spread that the whole body of the Romans was coming down to bring fire and sword among the wretched inhabitants. Marcellus hurried on; he dreaded that even now he might be too late to save Naomi and her mother from danger and alarm. All whom he approached in traversing the well-known streets that led to Zadok's dwelling, fled before him, supposing that he and his followers came only to destroy.

The flames of the burning temple illuminated the whole of the city, and by that terrific light Marcellus saw what ravages famine and the sword had made among the inhabitants. He stepped shuddering over the decaying corpses that polluted the streets; and when his eye glanced upward he met the despairing gaze of many a spectral countenance watching him from the windows of the houses, and shrinking with terror at his approach.

The intrepid young soldier trembled with anxiety as he reached the gate of Zadok's house. Perhaps he should find his beloved Naomi a ghastly corpse! Could she have survived so much horror and privation? The gate was closed and secured inside, but it yielded to the united and powerful efforts of the soldiers, and Marcellus entered the courtyard. It was silent and deserted, for the domestics had fled to hide themselves at the dreaded approach of the Romans. Marcellus stationed the greatest part of his men in the court to prevent the entrance of any who might come for plunder or destruction; and attended only by two of his party, he proceeded with a beating heart to search the house for the objects of his anxiety. He found them not in the apartments, and he passed out upon the terrace. The red light that burnt so fiercely above fell upon the garden beneath the terrace, and he beheld a female form kneeling on the turf, while by her side stood one who seemed resolved to protect her or perish with her. An aged woman was near them, who uttered a shriek of terror as by the light of the conflagration she beheld three Roman soldiers appear on the terrace. Her scream awakened the kneeling maiden to a remembrance of her perilous situation, and she sprang to her feet.

"Slay her, Theophilus!" cried Deborah, in an accent of despair; "plunge your sword to her heart, and save her from the Roman conquerors. Better far to see her life-blood flow on the grave of her mother, than that she should be borne away a captive in the hands of the idolaters!"

Theophilus gazed on his trembling and lovely charge. Had he been any other than a disciple of Christ—had he not surely believed that her Lord and Saviour was able to protect her, and that come what may, his followers must endure to the end, and possess their soul in patience, he would have yielded to the wild entreaty of Deborah, and at once have put an end to Naomi's sufferings and dangers. He supported her sinking form, for now at last her courage and firmness deserted her, and she would have fallen to the ground had not Theophilus caught her in his arms, and held her while the dreaded enemy approached.

Marcellus commanded his men to remain on the terrace and sprang down the steps alone, crying loudly,

"Naomi, my own betrothed Naomi! you have nothing to fear: it is Marcellus."

His words were unheeded by Naomi, for she had fainted; and when he reached the spot where Theophilus stood in grateful astonishment, he snatched her senseless form from the arms of her cousin, and tears rolled down his manly cheeks as he gazed on her deathlike countenance.

"Look up, my Naomi," he cried; "look up, and see that it is Marcellus who supports you. I have looked forward to this moment in the midst of bloodshed and danger; I have hoped to see your beloved face, as the reward of every toil. O gracious God! may not my hopes be snatched from me now in this hour of meeting!"

It was long before Naomi's senses returned; but at length she opened her eyes, and looked wildly round, expecting to see none but her most dreaded enemies. What words shall describe her feelings when she saw the countenance of Marcellus, and heard his exclamation of rapture at this sign of returning life! Joy was almost as overpowering as fear, and for a few moments deprived her of utterance. But a delightful feeling of perfect security came over her soul, and she soon recovered. Marcellus was with her—what earthly dangers could she fear?

The surprise and joy of Deborah were more loudly expressed than that of Naomi. She poured forth her gratitude, mingled with inquiries and conjectures, which Marcellus was too much absorbed to reply to. But Naomi had no sooner become convinced of the reality of her own happiness than her thoughts reverted to her father, and she eagerly inquired whether Marcellus had obtained any information respecting him. He would have evaded the question and deferred the sad intelligence, but Naomi marked his countenance, and her quick eye detected that he had something to conceal.

"I know it," she exclaimed; "I know the worst. My father has fallen, and I am an orphan indeed!"

"It is but too true, my Naomi," replied Marcellus; "Zadok has fallen bravely, in the defence of his hallowed altar. I saw his reverend form, and I secured it from insult; it was all that I could do. And see," he added, drawing forth the well-known manuscript, "this sacred volume was near his heart; may we hope that its truths were known and valued there?"

"God grant it!" cried the weeping Naomi. "He had ceased to despise them, but the Lord alone knows how far he had received them. His soul was devoted to the service of God in sincerity and truth, and I trust that it is now rejoicing in His presence."

"And your mother, Naomi, has she also departed from this world."

"But yesterday she was laid beneath this turf, Marcellus; I may not mourn for her, for she died in the faith of our Lord Jesus Christ, and her end was full of blessedness."

"The Lord be praised!" said Marcellus. "Naomi, my father will be a father to you; and it will be my happy task to cheer your spirit, after all that you have suffered. The night of affliction has been very dark around you, my love; but we may hope that a joyful morning will yet dawn forth even in this world, and that our future lives may show our gratitude to the Lord, who has brought us through so many trials, and permitted us at length to meet each other though in circumstances of so much sorrow. Come, Theophilus, my long-lost brother, we must return to the house, and take measures for its security; and you shall tell me how it is that I see you here alive—you who have so long been wept as dead, and mourned for by the widowed heart of my poor sister."

Theophilus gave his friend a short relation of his preservation and subsequent existence in the prison, and in his turn he heard from Marcellus of all that Claudia had suffered on his account, and of her faithful and undying affection for him. When they entered the house, their discourse was interrupted by the sounds of violence and cries of terror that issued from the streets. The Roman soldiers had rushed down from the temple, and were slaying all whom they could overtake. The houses on every side were in flames; and it was only the presence of the troops who were stationed in the court, that had preserved the noble dwelling of Zadok from pillage and destruction. But the conflagration was spreading around, and ere long the fire must reach the building. It was no longer a safe retreat for Naomi; and Marcellus determined to convey her and Deborah, without loss of time, beyond the walls of the city to some place of security. He hastily prepared a litter; and having carefully concealed Naomi and her attendant from the eyes of the now ungovernable soldiery who paraded the streets, he caused his men to bear it towards the water-gate, while he and Theophilus guarded it with drawn swords on each side. It was with considerable difficulty and frequent opposition from the excited legionaries, that they succeeded in reaching the gate. The guards appointed to defend it had fled, and they passed out into the desolate valley, once verdant with gardens and orchards. When Naomi knew that she was beyond the reach of danger, she withdrew the drapery that surrounded her, and looked around on the scenes so familiar and so dear. All was changed; not a vestige remained of what had been so beautiful and luxuriant, and the red light of the burning city fell only on a barren desert. The valley was traversed, and Marcellus with his companions reached the Roman camp at the north of the city, as the first rays of morning dawned on the work of destruction that had been accomplished in the preceding night. In his father's tent he established Naomi and Deborah; and leaving them to the care of Theophilus, he returned again to the city, and joined his commander.

The whole Roman army encamped that day in the sacred precincts of the temple, and planted their victorious eagles among the smoking ruins. A sacrifice was offered to their false deities in the sanctuary of the Lord of Hosts, and loud acclamations proclaimed the victory of Titus. The immense value of the spoils with which each soldier was enriched, greatly increased their joy: so vast was the amount of the treasures they had obtained, that gold became as brass among these soldiers. In the midst of their loud rejoicings, their attention was attracted by the sight of a small party of priests and others on the top of a wall to which they had escaped. For five days these miserable beings remained in that situation, until starvation induced them to come down and implore for mercy. Isaac, the cruel, hard-hearted Isaac, was among them; and he entreated for life with an abject fear that excited the scorn of the Romans. It was unavailing, Titus would not listen to their supplications, and they were immediately executed.

A number of the Zealots had escaped to the upper city with their leader, and there they still defied the Romans. There were numerous and extensive subterranean passages beneath that part of the city; and the hopes of the insurgents rested in these for their preservation. It would be a repetition of scenes already described to narrate the sufferings of those who were cooped up within the walls of Sion. All the miseries of a second siege were endured; and it was not until the 7th of September that the Romans ascended the wall with shouts of triumph, and rushed through the streets, slaying and destroying as they went. But little plunder was found in this quarter: the houses were filled with putrid bodies of whole families who had died of hunger; and after gazing on the massy towers and walls of which he was now the master, Titus gave orders that the whole city should be razed to the ground and utterly destroyed, except three towers, which were left standing as monuments of the conquest.

The multitude of prisoners was embarrassing to the conquerors; and after a selection had been made of the tallest and most powerful-looking of the insurgents, to grace the triumphal return of Titus to the capital, a vast number of these rebels were put to death. The old and infirm, both of men and women, shared the same fate; and of the rest of the prisoners, many thousands were sent to the mines in various parts of the empire, or distributed among the provinces to fight as gladiators for the amusement of the populace. The number of the captives amounted to ninety-seven thousand; of those who were slain or died of famine throughout the siege the number has been computed at no less than our million one hundred thousand!

Still the chief objects of search to the Roman soldiers, and those on whom they especially thirsted to glut their vengeance, seemed to elude their pursuit. Neither John of Gischala nor the son of Gioras was to be found amid the ruins of the city. John had sought refuge in the subterranean caverns, with a multitude of his adherents. The Romans discovered the entrance to some of these caves, and endeavoured to penetrate them, but the pestilential effluvia that proceeded from the putrid corpses that choked the passages drove them back. At length John, and his brothers who had followed him to his retreat, came forth, reduced by starvation, and surrendered to the victors on a promise of mercy. This promise was performed, and the atrocious John was spared, but condemned to perpetual imprisonment.

It was supposed that Simon had expired in one of the caverns, and the search was suspended. Titus prepared to leave the ruined city, and Marcellus rejoiced that at length he might remove his beloved Naomi from a scene where every object that met her view was a memorial of former happiness and recent calamity. The fate of her brother weighed heavily on her mind; there was no hope of his being yet alive; but every search that Marcellus had caused to be made for his body had proved ineffectual, and Naomi was forced to leave the place in uncertainty whether he had perished or been sent off to the provinces as a captive. She was treated by Rufus with the kindest attention, and everything was done by those around her to reconcile her to her situation; but her heart had been too severely wounded to recover its natural strength and elasticity thus early. She had much to lament, as well as much to be grateful for; and Marcellus did not love her less because she was frequently so much absorbed in her melancholy reflections as to be insensible even to the pleasure of his society. She remained entirely secluded with Deborah in Rufus's tent, or travelled, concealed in a litter, until the army arrived at Cæsarea, on the coast, where Titus paused for some time before he proceeded to Cæsarea Philippi. Marcellus then applied for leave of absence for himself and his father, that they might escort Naomi to her friends at Ephesus, and the permission was readily obtained. Happily a vessel was in the port, bound for Ephesus, and in this they all embarked, and sailed away from the desolated land of Judea, towards the spot where Naomi and Theophilus hoped to meet all their surviving relatives, and to be once more united to those so dear to them both.

After their departure a messenger arrived at Cæsarea from the ruined metropolis, with intelligence that Simon and one of his officers had been discovered. A party of the Roman soldiers who were left encamped in the ruined city had been startled one day as they were reposing amid the blackened and tottering walls of the temple, by seeing a man of dignified appearance, and clothed in a rich robe of purple, over a white garment, rise suddenly among them, as if from the earth. At the first moment their superstitious fears led them to believe that it was a spectre, but on their demanding the name of the apparition, he replied, "Simon, the son of Gioras."

He had descended a secret passage on the total defeat of his party, and with several others had remained concealed ever since that time. The provisions which they had taken with them had failed, and none of his companions remained alive except Javan, who followed his chief from their retreat, and they both surrendered themselves into the hands of Terentius Rufus, who held the command of the troops remaining at Jerusalem. Simon had hoped to overawe the guard by his sudden and mysterious appearance, and thus to effect his escape; but in this hope he was disappointed and found himself a captive in the hands of his enemies. This news was most welcome to Titus, and he dispatched immediate orders that the son of Gioras should be sent with his comrade to join him at Cæsarea, and assist to swell the honour of his triumph.

The domes and pinnacles of Diana's far-famed temple were glowing in the ruddy beams of the setting sun, when the white sails of a vessel were descried from the watch-towers of Ephesus, bearing swiftly and steadily towards the port. It was known by the signals hoisted from the masthead to be a merchant-ship returning from Syria, and numbers of the inhabitants of the city assembled on the quays and the banks of the river to witness the arrival of the goodly vessel, and hear from the passengers the latest intelligence of the war in Judea. Among those who waited most anxiously for the approach of the ship to the landing-place, were Amaziah and his wife, with their adopted daughter Claudia. They hoped to receive some communication from their beloved friends in Jerusalem, or at least a letter from Marcellus, telling of the state of the metropolis. Possibly some of their countrymen might have escaped from the beleaguered city, and from them they should hear of the welfare of those so deeply interesting to them all.

A favourable breeze filled the sails of the vessel, and it cut through the yielding waters with the grace and rapidity of a water-bird, and yet the motion seemed too slow for the anxious impatience of the Jewish exiles. They wandered to and fro along the margin of the river, to the point of land where the broad stream fell into the bosom of the ocean, and again returned to the landing-place. The daylight died away before the ship had entered the mouth of the river, and ere it reached the quay its tall mast and lofty prow could hardly be distinguished in the increasing darkness. But lights were hoisted from the rigging, and gleamed on the crowded deck, and the rush of the parting waters told that the noble bark was coming gallantly against the stream. Many torches were brought down to the shore, and their waving and flickering light fell on the anxious and strongly-marked Jewish features of Amaziah and Judith, and the fairer countenance of their young companion. The anchor was cast out, the ropes were thrown on shore, and the vessel lay steadily against the marble steps of the quay. What voice was that so wild and shrill that sounded from the shore above all the murmuring of the assembled crowd? That pale and delicate girl who stood by the side of Amaziah, and leant upon his arm, had cast her tearful eyes upon the deck of the vessel, and in the midst of the groups of passengers she had discerned a form that seemed the vision of one long dead and deeply mourned.

She clung to the arm of Amaziah, and pointed convulsively to the deck, while her large blue eyes were dilated with astonishment and fear, and her parted lips refused to utter the name so dear and so familiar to them. Judith and her husband looked in vain for the cause of Claudia's agitation. The form which had conjured up such wild emotions had disappeared among the crowd, and gradually she became convinced that it had been a creature of her imagination, and that the image for ever present to her heart had caused the startling fancy. Her extended hand fell down again, and with a deep drawn and shivering sigh she faintly whispered,—

"Oh, it was a blissful, but a cruel deception!"

"What was it, my child?" asked Judith. "Did you see any countenance that recalled the memory of the friends we left in Judea?"

"Yes, mother, yes; I thought I saw those features that haunt my sleeping hours, and seem to smile upon from the skies by day. They looked more like those of a living man than the angelic face that visits my dreams, and my foolish heart was startled. But ah! it is there again! Look, Judith, look at the side of the vessel;—and another form is there! O God of mercy, let not my bewildered brain thus mock me with such fancies! They come—they come on! They have stepped upon the quay! Oh, those are no forms of air. Take me, Amaziah, take me to meet them, and let me find it true, or die!"

Judith and Amaziah were hardly less agitated than their companion. They likewise saw the figures that passed from the deck to the shore, and they likewise knew not how to trust their eyes. But the breathless suspense soon terminated in a blissful reality, and they embraced the living forms of their lamented son and their beloved Naomi. It would be vain to attempt to paint the feelings of that group, whose hearts were filled to overflowing with so many and powerful emotions. It was not for some moments that the presence of Marcellus and his father was perceived, but then they were warmly and joyfully greeted; and then came the inquiries after Zadok and Salome, who were supposed to have sent away their daughter, and to have remained themselves to witness the fate of their country. Rufus quickly replied, and silenced all further questions; while the tears of Naomi plainly told that she had not abandoned her native land until she was a lonely orphan.

The house which Amaziah occupied was not far distant from the banks of the river; and when the party so unexpectedly united were assembled in the pillared verandah, many hours were passed in sweet discourse though deeply tinged with melancholy recollections, and recitals of sufferings and trials that never could be effaced from the heart. But hope, and faith, and resignation shed their happy influence over that family group, and deep gratitude was seated in every heart, for the mercies that were so bountifully mingled with their afflictions. Rufus was a heathen amid a family of Christians. Would he remain hardened in idolatry when he saw the blessed fruits of a purer religion so beautifully displayed around him?

Some weeks had elapsed since the arrival of the merchant-ship, and the bitterness of Naomi's feelings had begun in some measure to subside, when Rufus announced that he could no longer tarry at Ephesus, but must take advantage of a ship which he found was shortly to sail for Rome, and return to the capital to meet Titus, and share in the glories of his triumphant entry. Marcellus had obtained permission to absent himself, and he gladly relinquished his share in the honours of the magnificent but somewhat barbarous ceremony that was expected. He however urgently joined in the request of his father, that Naomi would consent to their marriage taking place before the departure of the latter, and that the union of Claudia and Theophilus might be celebrated at the same time. Naomi's heart was still too much oppressed with the remembrance of the sad scenes she had so recently witnessed, to enable her to feel that it was a time for the accomplishment of all her hopes of earthly happiness; but she yielded to the solicitations of all her friends, and an early day was fixed for the nuptials. The benediction was pronounced on the two young couples in the church consecrated to the service of Christ; and the hands of the venerable Christian bishop were laid on their heads as they knelt devoutly before the altar. Many of the Ephesian converts and exiled disciples from Judea were present at the sacred ceremony; and all were deeply interested in the two lovely maidens who after so much suffering and so many heavy trials, which they had borne with exemplary fortitude, at length were rewarded with as much of happiness as they could hope to possess on earth.

Rufus took leave of his children and departed for Rome, with a promise that he would return to visit them at Ephesus, when his presence was no longer required with the army. This promise he was unable to fulfil until the following spring, when once again he joined the happy family—and this time he did not come alone. He was accompanied by a man, who, though still young in years, bore the deep furrows of toil and suffering, and uncontrolled passions, on his pale cheek and lofty brow. That brow wore less of pride, and those dark eyes glanced less fiercely than they were wont to do, for captivity and disappointed hopes had humbled the heart that once burned with ambition, and beat with a thirst for vengeance. Tears of softened and natural feeling flowed down his cheeks as he clasped Naomi in his arms and extended his hand to her husband and to Theophilus. It was Javan. Rufus had found him in slavery at Rome, and with a generosity that was worthy of a Christian, he had forgotten all past injuries, and redeemed the proud young Pharisee from the servitude that galled his spirit. The chastisements of the Lord had not been altogether thrown away upon him. He never forgot his native land, or ceased to mourn her degradation; but it was not with the wrathful bitterness that once preyed on his heart; for he learned to regard her afflictions as the just retribution of her crimes, and to look for her restitution to glory when that Jesus whose name he had so often blasphemed, shall come in the clouds of heaven, with all his holy angels, to sit on the throne of David, and reign over his people for ever.

THE END.

BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.