“That is high praise, sir,” said Benoni.
“Yes, master, and perhaps I exaggerate her charms, as is but natural.”
“Why is it natural?”
“Because we were brought up together, and I hope that one day she will be my wife.”
“Are you then affianced to this maid?”
“No, not affianced—as yet,” replied Caleb, with a little smile; “but I will not trouble you with a history of my love affairs. I have already trespassed too long upon your kindness. It is something to ask of you who may not desire my acquaintance, but if you will do me the honour to sup with me to-morrow night, your servant will be grateful.”
“I thank you, young sir. I will come, I will come, for in truth,” he added hastily, “I am anxious to hear news of all that passes at Jerusalem, which, I understand, you left but a few days since, and I perceive that you are one whose eyes and ears are always open.”
“I try both to see and to hear,” said Caleb modestly. “But I am very inexperienced, and am not sure which cause a man who hopes to become both wise and good, ought to espouse in these troubled days. I need guidance such as you could give me if you wished. For this while, farewell.”
Benoni watched his visitor depart, then once more began to wander up and down the portico.
“I do not trust that young man,” he thought, “of whose doings I have heard something; but he is rich and able, and may be of service to our cause. This Miriam of whom he speaks, who can she be? unless, indeed, Rachel bore a daughter before she died. Why not? She would not have left it to my care who desired that it should be reared in her own accursed faith and looked upon me as the murderer of her husband and herself. If so, I who thought myself childless, yet have issue upon the earth—at least there is one in whom my blood runs. Beautiful, gifted—but a Christian! The sin of the parents has descended on the child—yes, the curse is on her also. I must seek her out. I must know the truth. Man, what is it now? Can you not see that I would be alone?”