There was a deep growl of anger, but slowly the men fell back, and the women rushed forward, kneeling at her feet, kissing her hands. Their souls were touched, and she, stooping over them, bade them rise, and gave them food. She took one child in her arms and fed it with her own hands.
"Water!" they called out, "water!" And they showed her a pitcher filled with a foul liquid.
"Water, bring water!" she repeated; and the keepers brought it as they would have brought it at an angel's word.
She held the jars to the parched, thirsty lips, and they drank, all those who could get near enough; but it was not enough, there were so many.
"That is all," she said at last. "I have no more; but to-morrow I will come back and feed you again; only be human and know there is a God who careth for you. Ye have sinned, but He will pardon you if you repent. He suffered, though He was sinless, and you are sinners. It is but just that you should suffer for your sins. Listen to what the psalmist of Israel sang." In a loud, clear voice she recited the 77th Psalm:
"'I cried unto God with my voice, even unto God with my voice, and he gave ear unto me'," and so on to the end.
Where there had been such an uproar there was now a grave stillness, save for the groans of the men and the weeping of the women. She stood with the half-naked child still in her arms, and looked down upon the people, her tall figure resting against the unclean wall of that prison-house. Her voice was steady; her eyes had in them that strangely luminous look of inspiration.
When she had finished she gave the child back to its mother.
"If they will let me, I will come to you to-morrow," she repeated, "and so each day. Only be patient, and the Lord will be with you."
As she spoke she backed out of the cell, and disappeared from their sight.