"What is it, my Sara?"
"My flesh is coming clean! What meaneth it?"
"Jesus of Nazareth is here. My eyes be holden that I can not see, yet
I feel him."
"Jael! Jael!" Again it was a scream—a wild, glad, unearthly scream. "My strength is returning. It is pouring into me like sunshine. Jael! My knee! My legs! They are coming clean under my very eyes! Run to me. Hurry! Hurry else the miracle thou mayest not see! The flesh cometh clean fast. Fast! And the breath of healing bloweth over the running sores! See! They are drying! Look, like scales they are dropping away!"
Before Jael reached the bed Sara had risen on her knees.
"My Jesus!" he shouted in a voice that made the valley ring as he met her face to face. "Sara! Thou art made whole!"
Even as he spoke she lifted herself with a great shout and left the nest of rushes for the arms of Jael. For a moment he held her as if between the woman and destruction there remained nothing but his arms. Yet the lips of them both were dumb in the first moments of the miracle. Then he held her at arm's length and looked into her face.
"Thou art Jael—surely Jael," she said, "but am I Sara?"
"Yea, yea. And every whit made whole. Feel thou thy hair. Feel thou thy ruddy cheeks. Feel thou thy supple arms and strong young hands as when they tossed the nets," and he drew his fingers over her hair and face and arms.
Again she stood unable to speak. She looked back to the empty bed of rushes and into the face of Jael.