The sincere compliment was unheard by Miriamne, for she was gone ere it was sounded. The old man shaded his eyes, looked after her a few moments, then girding himself, hobbled down the street to seek at the city’s outskirt the waiting knight.
And Miriamne, with heart beating high, sped on homeward. But as she approached it she slackened her pace, with questionings as to how she had best enter, so as to secure loving welcome and in no wise perturb by sudden surprise. She saw her mother through the doorway, bowed and swinging back and forth. The girl’s heart divined all; “My brothers are dead!” The mother seemed oblivious to all about her, and Miriamne hesitated on the threshold. Just then the runner galloped up to the open door, reined his steed, and exclaimed: “Out of sight, out of mind! Death, like poverty, sifts our friends! Ye can hire mourners cheaper at Bozrah than at Gerash, and there are none to be had without coins! Gerash is distant. I had no coins, and was a fool to start, wise to return!” It was Laconic, and he was gone before any reply was given. Rizpah didn’t even lift up her head to notice his coming or going.
Miriamne was glad of the circumstance, for the runner gave her words with which to enter: “A daughter never forsakes.” She spoke thus, very softly.
Rizpah, perhaps not recognizing the voice, moaned on, swaying as she moaned:
“Mother, mother?”
Rizpah slowly lifted her eyes to the speaker; then, either by a masterful self-control or because sorrow dazed, she slowly and without emotion, addressed the maiden:
“Thou here? So, then, my three are safe together, before my eyes, in death. Thou wert buried years ago.”
Without another word the daughter and sister quietly moved to the forms lying beside the mother, and knelt down, bowing, her one arm flung over the corses. Presently she reached out her hand and it met a warm clasp from her mother. The maiden knew full well that it meant welcome. It was death’s victory; expressive, unspoken eloquence. There were four hearts; two still in death; two alive and breaking, but the dead hearts somehow drew the living ones together and then they beat as one, each all comforting to the other. Two dead hearts bridged the gulf between two living ones. There followed the embrace and kiss of peace, and then Rizpah questioned:
“Wilt stay with me a little while, my only—?” thereupon she sobbed and was relieved.
“Stay? Yes, always! But when, the burial?”