"My darling came back to me with feet hard and torn, and in the clouts of a washerwoman, and now she is going away again like a—like a——"
"Like a woman, a woman of Israel," interjected Deborah, adjusting the brown sheet, the common coarse outer garment of a peasant, over her head and around her form.
"Tell me, Huldah, do I not look like you or any other woman? If I do I am handsome enough for the stars to gaze at. Now remember, I am supposed to be sick and confined here in my chamber, and you are to bring me my broth three times every day until I really come back. I will think of your love, Huldah, and that will make me strong; and you will think of me, and that will bring me back safely."
She kissed the cheeks of her "good mother" as she called her, and glided across the court to the entrance of the cellar. Caleb was already there. They descended to the lower story.
"What news for me to-night?" said a familiar voice, accompanied by the click of a crutch on the stone pavement.
"Why, Meph, you must take me along with you for your message this time."
"Whew!" said the boy. "You're not really going yourself, Deborah?"
"Yes; can we reach Judas before morning?"
"If the stars don't get sleepy and go to bed before their time," replied the lad. "It's a good six hours' stretch though."
Deborah embraced Caleb, and disappeared with her guide.