"He gave his life for mine," said Stephen, solemnly, looking down at the quiet face across which the shadow of approaching death had already fallen. "And God hath accepted the sacrifice; it is not his will that he be restored. Would that I knew to whom I owe this debt of gratitude before he goes hence."
"He will recover consciousness, I think, shortly," said Mary, laying her cool white fingers on the brow of the sufferer. "He is assuredly not a Jew," she added, gazing intently at the dark face upon the pillows. "Fetch me a basin and sponge, my daughter; it may be that the cool water will revive him."
The girl to whom she had spoken hastened to obey. As she stooped to pour water from a jar which stood without in the courtyard, a young man hurriedly entered the enclosure.
"Where is Stephen?" he cried, as his eye fell upon the maiden. "I heard but just now that Herod had crushed him beneath his chariot wheels. A brutal deed. He that told me was an eye-witness."
"By the mercy of God," answered the girl with a half sob, "he hath escaped with a bruise; another was smitten in his place, and he is dying. I must hasten with the water!" and she sprang up and hurried away.
The young man followed, and approaching the group that surrounded the couch, he looked over the shoulder of the young girl as she held the basin ready for the hand of Mary. He started as his eye fell upon the wounded man.
"He is an Egyptian!" he exclaimed.
Even as he spoke, the man opened his eyes. "Water!" he gasped faintly. Stephen raised the languid head while the skilful hand of Mary held the cup.
"Lay him down again, gently--so," she said in a low voice.
Then Stephen bent over the pillow. "Canst thou tell us who thou art, and why it was that thou didst choose the life of another rather than thine own?"