“Your candour is refreshing,” said Lady Montella, scarcely knowing whether to be shocked or to admire, “and, unfortunately, your position is a common one amongst the Jews of to-day. So long as you do not actually renounce the faith, you, and those who adopt your standpoint, think you are fulfilling your whole duty to it. Why do you cling so ardently to the thought of dying a Jewess? Is it not because you cannot bear the thought of being separated from your own people at the last?”
“I suppose so,” Miss Lorm admitted. “It is just a sentiment, or else a prick of conscience. I am not sure which.”
“But our religion claims more of you than that,” the elder lady returned, with a touch of reproach. “People would not have to talk of the decadence of Judaism were it not for the neglect and lack of enthusiasm shown by many Jews. How I long for a grand revival—a rekindling of Judaism as it was in the days of old! Surely it ought to take place in this sacred land of our fathers. And when so opportune a time as now!”
Her eyes deepened with an intensity of feeling, and she became lost in thought. Zillah diverted the conversation into another channel, and began to speak of English affairs. She wished her ladyship were not quite so ardent a Jewess; she could not understand it at all.
CHAPTER VI
THE CAVE OF ELIJAH
Anne Whiteside was sitting in her own room, absorbed in thought, whilst near by, in his little white bed, lay her sleeping boy. Raie’s words had sunk deep into her mind—so deep that she could think of nothing else. Had she been told of such a cave in England she would probably have considered it unworthy her attention, but here in Palestine the conditions were entirely of another kind. She remembered the story of the pool of Bethesda, where the great multitude of impotent folk waited for the moving of the water; and to her it seemed quite as likely for a miracle to happen in a cave as in a pool. Moreover, the very soil of Palestine was sacred, and more associated with divine interposition than any country in the world, so that it seemed to lend itself to the miraculous as a matter of course.
“With God all things are possible,” she said to herself. “The arm of the Lord is not shortened.” The physicians were unable to cure the lad, and had pronounced his case hopeless; but surely no case was beyond the power of the Great Physician? She was determined to have faith.
The boy awoke, and blinking sleepily at the light, glanced at his grandmother, but no ray of intelligence crossed his face. He knew her, of course—he would take his food at the hands of no one else; but he showed no sign of recognition, and gazed vacantly into space. Anne moved the lamp in order to prevent the glare from hurting his eyes, then fetched him a glass of fresh cocoanut milk. He drank it greedily, and asked for more, but the old nurse thought he had had sufficient, and coaxed him to try and sleep.
Sitting by the bed, she sang a crooning little melody, such as might be used to lull a baby in a cradle, whilst her fingers busily plied a pair of woollen socks. There was no sound to break the stillness but that of her own voice, yet she was quite oblivious of the gentle lifting of the latch. A sudden shadow on the opposite wall, however, caused her to look up suddenly, and without any sense of surprise she discovered a swarthy Arab at her side.
“Mustaph!” she exclaimed, putting down her needles in haste. “You have come from the Princess? What does her Highness say?”