The girl looked her steadily in the eye: “I never wanted anything in my life so much as I want a home in which I may hide from the cruelties I have suffered since I was taken captive.” She brushed away a tear. “Yet I would not be ungrateful for all the mercies vouchsafed unto me by the God of my fathers, nor would I be so unjust to my betrothed as to marry him if I did not love him much, much more than my own ease or comfort.”
A blush overspread her cheek and she smiled down at Miriam, whom she was holding in a close embrace.
“Then thou art very sure thou lovest him and wilt make him a worthy wife; that thou art not taking advantage of his goodness of heart nor considering thyself first of all.” Milcah’s tone was judicial, almost accusing.
Rachel answered slowly, wonderingly: “I know not why thou shouldst ask, but since our vows are soon to be said before the world there is no reason why I should not tell thee how I love him, have always loved him—as he loveth me.”
Milcah’s heart sank. Here was confirmation of her worst fears. She loved him too. She did not wish him to marry this maiden, nor any other, but if his heart were set in this direction, she would not want him disappointed. She would try to approve his choice; try to forget her own loneliness when he should be absorbed in someone else and forget her, as was natural, as all men did forget their families when once they were married.
A little hand was laid against her arm, a little voice with compassion in it was urging her to listen. In the light of what had gone before, Miriam had understood Milcah’s remarks as Rachel could not; had comprehended Milcah’s thoughts from the despair on her countenance, and now came to the rescue of both. With a thrill of being at last needed she realized that she held the key to an embarrassing situation. How much more she knew of the whole matter than anyone else present! She could guess why Isaac had come. Had he not promised to take care of Rachel for Benjamin, to whom he was indebted? Into an atmosphere thick with misunderstanding, Miriam volubly poured her explanations.
And now, she concluded, Isaac had gone to bring Benjamin, to whom Rachel was betrothed, lacking only the public acknowledgment. Not until Rachel told her did Miriam know he was also in Syria, a captive with his flock, Isaac having spared to tell her lest she grieve for the desolation of her parents. Her voice choked. But now that Rachel had no home (Rebekah winced), she was glad he was near.
“Thinkest thou he will come?” asked Rebekah’s friend, sharply. “Will he not resent the—the—interest of the soldier?”
Rachel answered with a trace of indignation. “He will be grateful to the soldier, for much kindness hath Isaac showed me and asked naught in return.”
Milcah, likewise indignant at the slur, found herself liking Rachel immensely. In this maiden’s hands her brother’s reputation was quite safe.