The sound of flutes and wailing voices, which before had seemed far away, came nearer. Martha drew her veil across her head as she turned in the door. "I go to join the mourners at my brother's tomb. When thy friends ask of thee, what reason shall I give?"
"Tell them weariness hath overtaken me and I would be alone."
"Is there none thou wouldst see?"
"Nay, not one," Mary answered softly.
As Martha passed down the steps the sound of the mourners came from in front of the door. A moment they paused, then went wailing on to the tomb.
"I am alone," Mary sobbed as quiet again fell over the room. "Martha hath Joel and when the mother of Jesus did pass through the Valley of Separation, did she have him whom my soul loveth? Oh, that I might have felt the pressure of his strong hands around mine when the fingers of my brother grew cold and weak! Oh, that I might have heard his voice speaking sweetest comfort when the voice of my brother was hushed in death! Oh, that Jesus had been here! And my heart is sore because he came not. Urgent was the message and swift delivered, yet have two days passed and he tarrieth yet in Peraea while my heart doth break with loneliness!" and she threw herself down beside the couch.
She had lain but a moment when Martha from the outside called, "Mary!
Mary!" There was no response from the quiet room. "Mary! Mary!
Mary!" shouted Martha joyfully, just outside the door.
Mary arose in haste. What had come over Martha who had only now left to go mourning?
"Mary—Mary!" and in her eagerness Martha forgot that the room of
Lazarus was yet defiled and ran across its threshold crying, "The
Master hath come!"
"The Master hath come?" Mary exclaimed, springing toward her sister.