“What,” exclaimed the aunt, “what is it, Salathiel? Speak?”
“Reuben—”
“Reuben!” exclaimed Miriam.
“Reuben lives!”
“Where—where is he?”
“He has been borne back to the house of his mother.”
“How has this been wrought?” asked Deborah.
“There is our Cousin Asher, who was a witness of the whole. Shall he come in and tell you all?”
Asher was admitted with one or two others of the family, and briefly stated the facts.
“The rear of the very long procession that followed the corpse of Reuben had scarcely left the gate of the city, when I, who was assisting to bear the bier upon which rested the beloved remains, discovered a vast crowd of people coming down the hill. I soon, however, perceived that there was no intention on the part of the approaching mass to offer any offence or discourtesy to the funeral party; and, indeed, the expressions of grief by our widowed and bereaved kinswoman were so loud, that it was difficult to hear whether any word was uttered by the descending party. I have never seen a Hebrew woman so distressed; and though few have had such cause for grief, few have been more deeply wounded, yet I had hoped that she would have been able to repress her feelings. But as we grew nearer the grave, her lamentations were increased, and it was heart-rending to hear her exclamations. The whole procession seemed to have lost their own sense of bereavement in the presence of one the utterance of whose anguish was so impressive. To me it seemed almost an arraignment of Providence by our kinswoman. I cannot tell you how every one was affected; each seemed to wish silently but heartily that some event might occur to soothe the sorrows of the widow.