“I cannot say all that, Zillah,” he went on, “I sat in a seat, last night, in that Hall, where I could see you and Hammond, where I could hear all that was said upon the platform, but where I knew that neither you nor Hammond would be able to see me. All that I heard, last night, dear, has more than half convinced me, but—well, I cannot rush through this matter, I have to remember that it has to do with the life beyond, as well as this life.”
He sighed a little wearily.
“I saw the meeting between Hammond and you, Zillah,” he went on. “I had before begun to scent something of Hammond’s probable feeling for you, and I had seen you look at him in a way that, though you did not yourself probably realize it, meant, I knew, a growing feeling for him warmer than our maidens usually bestow on a Gentile. I saw you enter the cab together, and drive off, and——”
He sighed again. Then without finishing his sentence, he said:
“Perhaps I shall see with you, Zillah, soon. Meanwhile, dear——”
He lifted his hands, let them rest upon her head, and softly, reverently, cried:—
“The Lord bless thee and keep thee; the Lord make his face shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee; the Lord lift up His countenance upon thee, and give thee peace.”
The sweet old Nazarite blessing never fell more tenderly upon human ears than it did upon Zillah Robart. Jehovah had been very gracious to her. She had feared anger, indignation from her brother-in-law, she received blessing instead.
As he slowly lifted his hands from her head, she caught them in hers, lifted them to her lips, and kissed them gratefully.