"And you have not kissed the Black Stone?"
"Neither have I kissed the stone. By my faith, if it has become blackened by the kiss of sinners, those poor simpletons caress it in vain! On the word of a Bedouin, it can hold no more, since it is as black as well may be already."
"The worship of our little church, then, suits you better?" The priest's tone scarcely concealed the anxiety with which he asked the question.
"You seem to worship in truth," returned the youth, solemnly. "You seem to find a comfort in your service which these poor blindlings seek in vain. Aye, Yusuf, in living among you I have noted the peaceful tenor of your lives, the rest and confidence which nothing seems to overthrow. You rejoice in life, yet you do not fear death! Could such a life be mine, I would gladly accept it. But I do not seem to be one of you."
The priest made no reply for a moment. Kedar did not know that he was praying for the fit word. Then his deep, tender tones broke the silence.
"You believe in Jesus, whom we love?"
"I believe that he was the Son of God; that he lived on the very hills to the north of us; that he died to reveal to us the greatness of his love. Yet—" He paused.
"'Whosoever believeth on the Son hath everlasting life,'" said Yusuf in a low tone.
"I know, but—" the youth hesitated again.
"But what, Kedar?" asked the priest.