“Would he not, then, raise him now?”
“I do believe he could—I have faith in his power. But I would not be presumptuous. Yet, yet—oh, that Reuben might be restored to me?”
“Amen!” said Salathiel, “Amen!” and the deep tone of voice, and the upward turn of his eyes, told how truly his heart responded to the prayer of his cousin.
Two hearts were then united in solemn petition. There was faith, but none thought of hope.
After a few minutes of solemn silence, the eyes of Miriam were turned mournfully, and yet eagerly, toward the hill beyond the city’s wall.
“They are passing upward,” said Deborah to her; “the procession moves toward the brow of the hill, but, alas! the dust of the road conceals the train.”
They all looked forth to follow with their eyes as long as possible the mournful procession.
“But what is there?” exclaimed Deborah, pointing to a column of dust which denoted a crowd of people descending the hill toward the funeral.
“The procession has passed,” said Miriam.
“Both parties have stopped,” exclaimed Deborah.