"Name?" the scribe asked.
"Deborah," was the reply.
Meanwhile Atsu walked rapidly down the line to Rachel. The Hebrews fell out as he passed, and the relief on the faces of one or two was mingled with astonishment. He paused before the girl, hesitating. Words did not rise readily to his lips at any time; at this moment he was especially at loss.
"Thou canst abide here, in perfect security—with me," he said at last.
She shook her head. "I thank thee, my good master."
"For thy sake, not mine own, I would urge thee," he continued with an unnatural steadiness. "Thou canst accept of me the safety of marriage. Nothing more shall I offer—or demand."
The color rushed over the girl's face, but he went on evenly.
"A part go to Silsilis, another to Syene, a third to Masaarah. If thine insulter asks concerning thy whereabouts I shall not trouble myself to remember. But what shall keep him from searching for thee—and are there any like to defend thee, if he find thee, seeing I am not there? And even if thou art securely hidden, thou hast never dreamed how heavy is the life of the stone-pits, Rachel."
"Keep Deborah here," the girl besought him, distressed. "She is old and will perish—"
"Nay, I will not send thee out alone," was the reply. "If thou goest, so must she. But—hast thou no fear?"
Once again she shook her head.