“Would the dead hear? I knew he would hear. The voice itself predicted a resurrection; and I felt in every fibre of my being that almightiness was present and failure impossible. And yet how intently I gazed on the door of that tomb—how intently I listened for some sound from within! He scarcely had done speaking, when, sure enough, there was within the cave a stir, a rustle, a step. Another moment and the heavy door swung open, as of itself, and a man in grave-clothes appeared. The swathing bands were still about his hands and feet—the napkin was still about his face.
“‘Loose him and let him go!’ bade Jesus.
“The people obeyed, and lo, our friend Lazarus of old! Not the fever-stricken, delirium-haunted, emaciated Lazarus of a few days ago, who could not have stood on his feet without being wholly supported; but the Lazarus of his best days, able to go and come and do with the best. Also, looking as he did then, but with a difference. The mystery of the unseen was in his face. He seemed in possession of vast secrets. With this was a look, first of bewilderment and surprise, then of recognition—recognition of him whose potential word had brought him back to the world. He knelt at the feet of Jesus, and kissed his hand—as men do homage to their king. His King had come.
“Any doubt whether the death was real? Not to those who, like myself, had seen the sick man decline from day to day until the last feeble breath was drawn and the body grew cold and stiff. Not to those who prepared the body for burial and carried it forth to the tomb. Not to those who stood by the cave-mouth when the door swung back, four days after; nor to those who took off from the living man the cerements of the dead. The smell of death could not be mistaken. No, there is no doubt.
“Since then I have seen Jesus several times, and have talked with him. And I know that he is our Messiah. Would that you and your grandfather and all the dear family could see and hear him too! I feel that you all would, and must, judge as I do. Both my eyes and my heart recognize him. I seem to know him by a new internal sense.
“Not so, however, our chief men. He does not impress them as he does me. They are getting exceedingly bitter against him. Every new wonder increases their exasperation. I am ashamed to say it—but I have no doubt that they would gladly take his life. It must be that they are judicially blinded; or, if not, that an evil mood of the heart and will wonderfully hinders perception in religious matters.
“I would like to say more; but I hope to see you soon, and to make you a joyful sharer of my faith by a fuller account of what I have seen and heard.
“But what is this that I hear? Hints come to me almost daily about you and the great alliance. And yet you said nothing about it in your last. Just before he left for Rome, your father wrote me that the emperor had made proposals for you in behalf of his nephew and heir; and that this was partly the occasion of his going to Rome. I hope that you will speak freely in your next. I can see what great advantage to our people, not to say to all peoples, might come from such an alliance; especially as I hear the best things said of the young Cæsar. He is said to be like his excellent father. Is it possible that a daughter of mine will become more than a second Esther?”
Such was the letter—omitting the usual formalities of beginning and ending. While Seti was reading it, Rachel kept her eyes fastened anxiously on his face—especially as he approached the end. When at last he looked up, she came and stood before him and put a hand on each shoulder and looked beseechingly into his eyes.
“Grandfather, had you known of this before?”