"The child! My Caleb!" she cried.
"The lad! He is at home. I found him; I brought him."
Complete as had been her transformation from a child into a spirit of vengeance, the kindly tone and news brought by Dion made her a girl again. She felt her weakness, her need of protection. She sat upon a stone, and the tears which she thought had been forever dried within her by the terrors of the night, burst forth as from a fresh fountain.
"My dear Deborah——"
She shrank from Dion's touch as he laid his hand upon hers, but it was only for an instant; his interest in her was evidently too sincere for her to resent. Jew and Greek, of races divided by eternal hatred, yet, as beneath the deepest sea the land connects the shores, they were two human creatures. Need and helpfulness—they are the two lobes of one heart, and beat from common impulses. She allowed him to take her hand in his, as even her blind brother would have done.
She said nothing of Apollonius' insolence. Had she told that, our story would have been different, for Dion's hot blood would surely have anticipated the great Avenger who was to come.
As they walked toward her home, the Greek studied furtively the face of his companion. How changed! He assigned for it but one occasion, her loving anxiety for her father and brother. He had known but little of such emotions, for his own life had been from childhood among the friends whom rank or chance had brought him; love was to him only a closer good comradeship. But now, through Deborah's eyes he seemed to be looking into unknown depths, fathomless places of the soul, while heretofore in his intercourse with women and men, he had sounded only the shallows.
As they neared the house of Elkiah, Deborah with the frankness of a child said:
"The Lord reward you, sir, for your kindness to me and to my father's house!"
"Will not your God reward me by letting me serve still further one whom, before all the gods, I have learned to love?"