Before the now thoroughly frightened lad could frame a reply, Isaac stood before them. Frowningly he addressed himself to Lemuel.
“I will carry the word to our master, the word that a guest in his house hath been intimidated and an attempt made to rob him of his possessions. I will not soften it, neither will he.”
Lemuel held up a deprecating hand. “Thou art too harsh. Thou dost not remember that the lad was a prisoner, taken in open warfare. Should he not purchase his ransom?”
Isaac replied by a look, one long look of scorn and indignation, and Lemuel departed, failing miserably to maintain his old-time swagger. Isaac watched him, his lip curling. At last he turned to Nathan.
“Hadst thou intrusted thy treasure to him, never wouldst thou have seen it again, nor would my master have known of the matter. Guard it and thyself as well.”
Nathan stammered his thanks, wondering the while if he had not been delivered from one peril but to fall into another. He braced himself for the ordeal.
“The man hath spoken the truth,” he confessed, bravely. “Five years hath made a change in my appearance, but look thou steadily upon my countenance and thou wilt see that I am the lad who escaped out of thine hand. Behold, it is revealed. What owe I thee?”
The soldier regarded him with the same frank admiration as had Naaman on the day previous. “Thy courage is equal to thy resourcefulness and independence of spirit. What a soldier thou wouldst make! Not at first did I know thee, but soon did thy brother’s words bring thee to remembrance. Naught owest thou, for didst thou not guard and guide the maiden, Rachel, who was very dear to a friend of mine, a man to whom I owe my very life? Nor have I any claim upon thee after this lapse of time and we at peace with Israel and grateful because of the healing of my master by thy great prophet. Nay, fear not, but go in peace.”
Nathan would have gone instantly and with joy had he known the way, and so it came about that once more was he indebted to the soldier against whom he had cherished resentment for five long years. In the guest-chamber Eli had awaited his brother’s return in profound melancholy. The servant came to conduct them to the apartments of Miriam’s mistress just as Nathan and Isaac reached the threshold, but Eli sat still.
“Why go?” he asked, mournfully, in reply to Nathan’s sharp remonstrance. “If we find, as seemeth likely, that the maid hath chosen to forget all she should remember: Israel the land of her birth, her mother and her home, and more important than all else, Jehovah her God, how could we carry the tidings which would be sharper than a sword to the heart of her mother?”