Raising the jar upon her shoulder, she hurried back. In forgetfulness, she would have gone to them, but the cry “Unclean, unclean! Beware!” arrested her. Placing the water by the basket, she stepped back, and stood off a little way.
“Thank you, Amrah,” said the mistress, taking the articles into possession. “This is very good of you.”
“Is there nothing more I can do?” asked Amrah.
The mother’s hand was upon the jar, and she was fevered with thirst; yet she paused, and rising, said firmly, “Yes, I know that Judah has come home. I saw him at the gate night before last asleep on the step. I saw you wake him.”
Amrah clasped her hands.
“O my mistress! You saw it, and did not come!”
“That would have been to kill him. I can never take him in my arms again. I can never kiss him more. O Amrah, Amrah, you love him, I know!”
“Yes,” said the true heart, bursting into tears again, and kneeling. “I would die for him.”
“Prove to me what you say, Amrah.”
“I am ready.”