Far away the sun had begun to shine also for another heart. A month after the Syrian raid Sarah was still upon her bed, a little paler, a little weaker every day. Judith had been her faithful attendant, and so it happened that when Abner came, as he had promised, to ask the girl at the hands of her kinswoman, there had been no opposition. The betrothal “feast” had been held minus the usual festivity, the pall of melancholy having settled upon the tiny “city” of Hannathon. Also, the principals to this strange alliance were not popular. Lastly, there was nothing to feast upon, the daily rations, doled out by Abner, being barely sufficient to keep the people alive.
A few weeks later, as was the custom, Judith went to the home of her husband, whither she would have removed Sarah but for vigorous objection.
“If they should return and find the dwelling closed—” said the woman. “Nay, but here must I remain,” and no argument availed to change her decision.
Thus it had come about that Eli had gone to dwell with Sarah in place of the son and daughter she had lost, and Abner, upon Judith’s insistence, sent a maid servant to care for her in Judith’s stead. Eli was Sarah’s one stay and comfort. He treated her precisely as he would his own mother, sustaining her feeble strength largely by his own cheery courage and unfailing hopefulness. Under his tender ministry she had begun to grow stronger. The time had come when she no longer kept to her bed.
“I must live to welcome them when they come back,” she told him, and he turned his head to hide a tear of pity.
Never did she tire of planning for the journey he should some time take to ransom the captives, although both clearly apprehended the difficulties first to be overcome. “Yet will we trust in Jehovah,” he assured her, confidently, “and he shall bring it to pass.”
The first obstacle was removed when Abner, returning from a short pilgrimage with seed for sowing his fields, agreed with Eli that the latter should work on his land for wages, the same to be collected at harvest time. The second obstacle yielded when Nathan, ragged and weary but rejoicing, arrived in Hannathon. Finding that his mother’s home was closed, he had come at once to Sarah’s, and however doubtful his tidings it had been eagerly received: Rachel had reached Damascus. At this very moment she was doubtless enjoying the peace and plenty of her kinsman’s abode. Miriam had been well treated on the journey and had borne up bravely. Of Benjamin he knew nothing at all and the mother wept afresh.
To Eli the important thing, next after the safety of his brother, was that he now knew the name of the soldier in charge of the party. Isaac, once found, could tell him the whereabouts of the captives. But surprise was not confined to the dwelling of Sarah nor yet to the abode of Rachel’s parents. It was also present in the House of Abner. The master had brought the mistress a most unexpected gift: a pearl of great price which he had not sold for seed, as she had supposed.
“The grapes and olives be surety for that wherewith I am to sow, and because thou hast been prudent and far-seeing I return unto thee the jewel given thee by thy father. Behold, thou hast what is thine own, yet none but thou and I shall know, lest it be stolen from thee.”
Judith, receiving the gift with smiling thanks, frowned when Abner had departed. Throwing the pearl upon the floor she stamped her foot: “Thus hath our deeds power to follow and torment us! Thou,” addressing the jewel, “hast served thy purpose. Why comest thou back to me like a spirit from the sepulcher to remind and to mock, yea to be ever unto me like a live coal in my bosom?”