“I may not tarry longer; I staid all night without the city’s wall so as not to be delayed by awaiting the gate-opening. I must be with my companions by the time the Moslems have ended their first prayers, or my comrades will be alarmed. I’ll return to-morrow.”
Another dawn, another noon, and another sunset, came and went; but the knight did not reappear at Bethany. The chaplain vainly tried to suppress his anxiety. He feared some treachery on the sheik’s part. Again and again the former went to the house-top to look along the Jerusalem road. It was a hot June day; the watchings flushed the young man’s face but fears’ rigors in the heart paled it. He was a picture of misery. Darkness followed sunset; then came tidings:
“There’s a company with garlands and torches coming around the bend!”
The news was brought by a company of Sisters of Bethany. The missioner was excited, yet reasoned:
“Garlands and torches! Their bearers can not have baleful report nor evil designs.”
The visitants quickly arrived, and singing a roundelay, encircled the house of Cornelius and Miriamne. With delight the latter recognized the Hospitaler and his companion knights. With them were a number of the friends of the new movement at Bethany. They also observed, standing by his camel, a little aloof, a tall, gaunt man, garbed as a Druse; by him, an elderly woman, and also a maiden.
“’Tis Nourahmal and her grand-child!” whispered Miriamne, following her husband’s questioning eyes.
“The maiden wears the flower crown of a bride, and see, there is a young man by her side!”
The Hospitaler interrupted their converse:
“I’ve kept my promise to the ‘Angels of the Mount’ and to God. I’m here, and to celebrate a proper thanksgiving!”