"Lock the gate and double bar it," he cried irritably to the guard. "Then stand there for your lives; if these prisoners get away, and I have to die for it, be sure that not one of you shall escape. Thrust the man into the stocks," he added to the turnkey, who stood at his elbow; "as for the women, chain them to the floor. I will come after a little and look to them. Food? No; let them fast. Give them water."
In the inner prison, where the darkness seemed only the more intense because of the feeble rays of daylight which struggled through the little square of grating above the door, were the four who were condemned to death. The young man Seth made fast in the stocks, the three women chained to heavy rings which were riveted into the stone floor.
"Dost think that He will deliver us?" whispered Anat, laying hold of the robe of Mary and pressing it to her lips.
"He will deliver us, beloved, in his own best way," answered Mary tenderly. "If the way lie through the dark valley, then will the end thereof be only the more glorious."
"But the scourging--the shame, how--how shall we endure it?" wailed Anat piteously.
"He also endured--being divine," said Mary, her voice trembling; "and shall we who are but mortal shrink back? Think not of the morrow, save as thou dost think that to-morrow we shall stand before Him in clothing of immortality."
"But if we fail, deny him?" faltered Anat. "I know not my own heart--whether I can endure unto the end."
"He will give thee grace when the need comes. Wouldst thou at this moment deny him?"
"No--ah, no."
"Neither wilt thou deny him on the morrow. He giveth his strength in due season, and to-morrow is in his hand."