But Isaiah deliberately stooped and raised the wretched man by the hand. “Peace, Dagan,” he commanded, and then he looked sadly but calmly upon the apostate. “Shaphat,” his voice was very gentle, “I have but just stood beside Daniel, the most righteous man in all Babylon. He is in chains in a noisome dungeon. If God suffers him to undergo this, what punishment is left for such as you to endure, were we all rewarded after our ill-doings? But were He to remember all the foul deeds in even the most righteous, who of us shall stand? Rise up, and speak with boldness. You are rewarded, not of man, but of God. I will hear and believe your story.”
“Master,” cried the penitent, the big drops on his cheeks, “your words are precious beyond seven talents of gold. Yet have I not sinned beyond the Lord God’s mercy?”
“You have not if by your future deeds you atone as in you lies. And now I am hearkening.”
Whereupon, with many groans and protests of sorrow, Shaphat told how, after the trial, and his almost forced exposure of Gudea’s infamy, he had rushed away and hid himself in the vilest quarters of the city, amongst the bargemen and sailors. Often he meditated slaying himself, but the fear of the angry Jehovah passed his fear even of his stinging conscience. Daniel lay in his prison, and Shaphat knew that up to the last moment he had been consenting to the “civil-minister’s” misfortune. His own scanty means were soon ended. Avil-Marduk was his enemy, and desired his arrest. As a last recourse, Shaphat hired himself to a band of nondescript Arab caravan merchants, who were about to set forth for Egypt. Perchance, he vainly argued, he would find that the goad of memory might not follow to the strange Nile country, and he could commence life there afresh. But on the day after setting forth, while the caravan halted in a village, lo! after the manner already told, the Amorite bandit came with his three captives, nor was Shaphat long in recognizing.
And then began his new agony. Well he knew that Ruth was all Binit protested,—worth her weight in silver to any who might deliver her to the king. And first he resolved to tell his employers that Binit’s ragings were indeed truth, and they had great prize. But the serpent of guile brought him yet darker thoughts. Why should he not flee away with the Jewess herself, deliver her to Belshazzar, claim the royal reward, and drown his remorse in the delights of riches? It was with this thought uppermost that he suffered himself to drift into new falsehoods when the leader of the caravan questioned him as to their youngest captive. All that day he adhered to his black purpose, and the delays which prevented the advance of the caravan were largely of his contriving. In the evening, as soon as the camp grew still, he filched a bag of money from an Arab and prepared to make off. The flight was not difficult. Ruth obeyed him implicitly when he promised he would conduct her back to safety. They wandered onward toward the city until the Jewess’s feet were so weary she could trudge no more, and she slumbered out the remainder of the night in a farmer’s stack, while Shaphat remained on guard to beat off the wild dogs and jackals. In the morning he contrived to purchase some millet bread in a village, and they plodded southward.
“But now,” continued Shaphat, while his voice once more was near to breaking, “I found all the demons of the Chaldees rising up within me; for it seemed impossible that I should refuse life riches, and yet a voice spoke ever goading, warning, torturing, ‘Better a life of beggary and rags, than do this deed which will cry out to God.’ But then I answered myself, saying: ‘God is already angered past all atoning. He can never forgive. Let me make joy to-day, for to-morrow is only endless gloom.’ And so I continued debating long and bitterly, while we measured the long road. But when we drew near to Babylon, the Lady Ruth spoke to me, after her gentle way, ‘Good Shaphat, what are you fearing, and why does your face become so sad?’ Whereupon I answered her: ‘You know I have promised to deliver you to some friend who will keep you safely. Do you put trust in me, seeing that I have done great wrong to my lord, your father?’ And she looked up at me, and said, in her innocency, little knowing all the evil that was passing in my breast, ‘You have truly done great ill, and on this account I will put trust in you yet more, for I know you will not wish to anger the good Lord God for yet a second time.’—‘Alas!’ cried I, ‘have I not so angered Him that I can never be forgiven, though I had all the riches of the Egibi bankers, and spent them in alms-deeds on the poor?’ But she said, and her voice was like a cool hand laid upon my brow, ‘And wherefore should the good God not forgive? for I know that I, since I see you truly sorry, have forgiven, and so, surely, has my father; and have we more of pity than Jehovah the All-Merciful?’ Then,” but here the apostate must needs stop and weep hot tears indeed, “as I looked down upon her, and saw how fair she was, how her face was pure as a summer’s cloud, and her heart guileless as a bursting flower, and when I told myself how selling her to Belshazzar would be selling her to worse than death, I said within my soul, ‘I cannot do this evil deed in sight of God; no, though I die this hour, and descend to Sheol forever, I shall yet have this to comfort me, that I am free from this great sin.’ For I felt as if ten thousand talents from the king would turn to fire in my hands. All the rest of the way to Babylon the fiends pressed close to tempt me, but they had lost their power. I fought them all away. I scarce knew where to take the Lady Ruth, but I remembered that Dagan-Milki was your friend, and unsuspected among the Babylonians. I little thought to place her in your keeping. When I gave her to Dagan, for a moment my soul had peace. Nevertheless, when I saw how even he, a Chaldee, turned the back on me, and I thought on my great sins, my sorrows all returned, and I have been fearfully tormented. But as Jehovah is my judge, I have told all truly.”
He was weeping once more, but Isaiah stepped beside him, and took him by the hand.
“The Lady Ruth is right,” he said simply; “God is more merciful than man. You are forgiven in His pure sight. I believe all your story.”
“Blessings upon you for the word!” cried the penitent; “you make me your slave forever. How may I serve you, even unto death?”