Wondering much, she walked very soberly by Milcah’s side, but the marvelous experiences of the next two hours crowded unpleasant remembrances from her mind. For the first time she viewed close at hand the streets and bazaars of Damascus; those crowded streets at which she had once been affrighted; which she had so often observed from the roof; which seemed mysteriously shorn of terror now; those small, stall-like bazaars Isaac had described, crowded with every conceivable merchandise, salable articles hung on the walls and piled on the ground, the merchants sitting cross-legged in the center of their wares. It was all so bewilderingly different from Hannathon, the only “city” she had ever seen save Damascus!
The stern lines of Milcah’s mouth relaxed into a little smile as she answered eager, excited questions and looked into the flushed face of her companion. “The child taketh dress,” she thought to herself. “She is not so unattractive as at first and she commenteth with intelligence upon what she sees. Peradventure she may become useful to me. Her nimble feet may oft save mine own from weariness. At once will I begin—”
But Milcah’s thoughts received an unexpected check. She stopped short, amazed and displeased, for there, on the footway of the busy street, in front of the shop of Amos the perfumer, stood Isaac, talking low and earnestly with a maiden whose full face was not visible from where they stood. The two saw only each other, paying no attention whatever to the jostling throngs which surged past them.
Milcah drew Miriam a little aside: “So this was the meaning of his haste! Deaf is he and blind to his only sister, and when he is married he will have time for neither thee nor me.” She was greatly agitated, and her impressive tones carried an unaccountable chill to the heart of her listener. She had lost her friend! That was why he had not seemed to see her that morning. It would always be that way. Miriam brushed away a tear as the two parted with lingering adieux.
For the first time they saw the face of the girl at whom he was still smiling, and Milcah was not relieved to note that she was of undoubted beauty. Evidently, too, she was of Israelitish blood, which made the situation all the more hopeless. It would be easier to urge objections against one of another race. With determination she turned to Miriam.
“The maiden went into the House of Amos. With him have I business regarding perfumes for my mistress and with his wife have I some acquaintance, so that I may, with no impropriety, inquire the meaning of what we have witnessed. I would know how long this hath continued and something of the maid herself. Before I am obliged to accept her as a sister I desire to learn—”
But Milcah was speaking to empty air. Miriam had already disappeared within the doorway and when the woman arrived and had exchanged with the inmates of the dwelling the elaborate courtesies of the East, she found the child and the strange maiden wholly engrossed in a happy conversation. The older girl at last became aware of voices near and questioning, annoyed glances. She looked up with a face transfigured with joy.
“Two beautiful surprises hath come to me to-day: this little maid and before that Isaac came—”
Rachel paused, perceiving the sudden coolness with which her words were received, but lifting her head a trifle defiantly she concluded the sentence almost with triumph: “And within the month I am to be publicly betrothed.”
“I suppose,” commented Milcah, “that thou art counting the days.”