The old shepherd sat on the couch, feebly twisting his fingers, and talking to himself. He was repeating bits of the story he had just told them: "And, lo, an angel overhead!" he muttered. Then he looked up, whispering softly, "Glory to God in the highest—and peace, yes, on earth peace!"
"He seems to have forgotten everything else," said Nathan, signalling to the men outside to lead him home. "His mind is wiped away entirely, that it may keep unspotted the record of that night's revelation. He tells it over and over, whether he has a listener or not."
They led him gently out, the white-haired, white-souled old shepherd Heber. It seemed to Joel that the wrinkled face was illuminated by some inner light, not of this world, and that he lingered among men only to repeat to them, over and over, his one story. That strange sweet story of Bethlehem's first Christmas-tide.
CHAPTER IV.
EXT morning a goodly train set out from the gates of Nathan ben Obed. It was near the time of the feast of the Passover, and he, with many of his household, was going down to Jerusalem.
The family and guests went first on mules and asses. Behind them followed a train of servants, driving the lambs, goats, and oxen to be offered as sacrifices in the temple, or sold in Jerusalem to other pilgrims.
All along the highway, workmen were busy repairing the bridges, and cleaning the springs and wells, soon to be used by the throngs of travellers.