“A sight to make old eyes glisten,” answered Nehushta handling them. “I know something of pearls, and these are worth a fortune. Happy maid, to whom is given such a lover.”
“Unhappy maid who can never be a happy wife,” sighed Miriam, her blue eyes filling with tears.
“Grieve not; that still may chance,” answered Nehushta, as she fastened the pearls about Miriam’s neck. “At least you have heard from him and he still loves you, which is much. Now for the ring—the marriage finger—see, how it fits.”
“Nay, I have no right,” murmured Miriam; still she did not draw it off again.
“Come, let us be going,” said Nehushta, hiding the casket in her amble robe, “for the sun sinks, and to-night there are guests to supper.”
“What guests?” asked Miriam absently.
“Plotters, every one,” said Nehushta, shrugging her shoulders. “The great scheme to drive the Romans from the Holy City ripens fast, and your grandsire waters its root. I pray that we may not all of us gather bitter grapes from that vine. Have you heard that Caleb is back in Tyre?”
“Caleb!” faltered Miriam, “No.”
“Well, he is. He arrived yesterday and will be among the guests to-night. He has been fighting up in the desert there, and bravely, for I am told that he was one of those who seized the fortress of Masada and put its Roman garrison to the sword.”
“Then he is against the Romans?”