"I know not; but G.o.d, whom you serve, will help you, my brave and innocent child! I will be following at no great distance--every soldier or slave will know me--call me, and I will come to your aid."

"Father, give me your blessing," faltered Zarah.

"_My_ blessing!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Pollux, drawing back; "does any one ask a blessing from a wretch from whom it would sear and blast more than a curse from the lips of another!"

"Oh, never say so!" cried Zarah. "You doing now what is generous--n.o.ble--right! You are casting in your lot with the people of G.o.d; like Lot, you are turning your back upon Sodom."

"And you are the angel leading me thence," exclaimed Pollux. "Oh, Zarah, Zarah, sainted child of a sainted woman, you who have been the first to cast a gleam of hope on the darkness of guilt and despair, if ever I find mercy from man or from G.o.d, if ever I look again on the face of my mother, if ever I escape the righteous doom of an apostate, it is owing to you! Whatever be the result of our perilous enterprise to-night, remember that I thank you, I bless you--and you shall be blessed, O my daughter!" Pollux laid both his trembling hands on the head of his kneeling child, and uttered for her the first prayer to the true G.o.d which the apostate had dared to utter for many guilty, miserable years.

CHAPTER XXV.

A RETROSPECT.

Hada.s.sah had, in the meantime, been enduring the martyrdom of the heart.

When Zarah, under the escort of Abishai, left her home to attend the celebration of the holy feast, Hada.s.sah sent her soul with her, though failing health chained back the aged lady's feeble body. In thought, Hada.s.sah shared the memorial feast; in thought, partook of the sacrifice and joined in the hymns of praise. Her mind dwelt on the circ.u.mstances attending the celebration of the first Pa.s.sover, when, with loins girded and staff in hand, the fathers of Israel had taken their last meal in Egypt, before starting for the Promised Land.

"Is not this the _Promised Land_ still?" thought Hada.s.sah; "though those who are as the Canaanites of old now hold it--though unhallowed worship be offered on Mount Zion, and images be set up within the walls of Jerusalem. Yea, it is to Israel the Promised Land, till _every_ prophecy be fulfilled; till the King come to Zion, _lowly and riding on an a.s.s_ (Zech. ix. 9); till--oh, most mysterious word!--the thirty pieces of silver be weighed out as the price of the Lord and cast to the potter (Zech. xi. 12, 18); till He shall speak peace to the heathen, and His dominion be from sea to sea, and from the river to the ends of the earth (Zech. ix. 10). Faith looks backward on fulfilled prophecy with grat.i.tude, on yet unfulfilled prophecy with hope. Zion's brightest days are to come. Her Lord crowned her with glory in the days of old; but in the days which will rise on her yet, He shall Himself be to her as a diadem of beauty!" (Isa. xxviii. 5.)

Absorbed in such high contemplations, with hopes intensified by the victories of Maccabeus--which seemed to her types and pledges of greater triumphs to come--time did not pa.s.s wearily with Hada.s.sah until the hour arrived for Zarah's expected return. Even the delay of that return did not at first seriously alarm Hada.s.sah; circ.u.mstances might render it safer for the maiden to linger at Salathiel's house; she might even be pressed to remain there during the night, should Syrians be lurking about in the paths amidst the hills. Hada.s.sah had so often attended meetings in the elder's dwelling, with or without her grand-daughter, that habit had made her regard such attendance as less perilous than it was now to be proved to have been.

But Hada.s.sah on this night could not retire to rest. She could not close her eyes in sleep until they had again looked upon her whom the Hebrew lady fondly called her "white dove."

Midnight stole on, and Hada.s.sah's heart, notwithstanding her courage and faith, became burdened with heavy anxiety. She made Anna lie down and rest; while she herself, notwithstanding her state of indisposition, kept watch by the door.

Presently her ear caught the sound of footsteps, hurried yet stealthy.

Hada.s.sah heard danger in that sound, and opened the door without waiting to know who came, or whether the steps would be arrested at her threshold. The light which the widow held in her hand fell on a countenance ghastly with fear; she recognized the face of Salathiel, and knew before he uttered a word that he had come as the messenger of disaster.

"The enemy came--we fled over the roofs--Abishai is slain--Zarah in the hands of the Syrians!"

Such were the tidings which fell like a sentence of death on the ear of Hada.s.sah! Salathiel could not wait to tell more; he must overtake his family and with them flee for his life; and he pa.s.sed away again into darkness, almost as swiftly as the lightning pa.s.ses, but, like the lightning, leaving behind a token of where it has been in the tree which it has blasted!

Hada.s.sah did not shriek, nor sink, nor swoon, but she felt as one who has received a death-blow. She stood repeating over and over to herself the latter part of Salathiel's brief but fearful announcement, as if it were too terrible to be true. Had Zarah been taken from her by natural cause, the Hebrew lady would have bowed her head like Job, and have blessed the name of the Lord in mournful submission; but the thought of Zarah in the hands of the Syrians caused an agony of grief more like that of Jacob, when he gazed on the blood-stained garment of his son and refused to be comforted.

For Hada.s.sah loved the young maiden whom she had reared with the intensity of which a strong and fervent nature like hers perhaps alone is capable. Zarah was all that was left to her grandmother in the world, the sole relic remaining of the treasures which she once had possessed. It may be permitted to me here, as a digression, to give a brief account of Hada.s.sah's former life, that the reader may better understand her position at the point reached in my story.

Few women had appeared to enjoy a brighter lot than Hada.s.sah, when beautiful, gifted, and beloved, a happy wife, a rejoicing mother, she had dwelt near Bethsura in Idumea, the possessor of more than competence, and the dispenser of benefits to many around her. Hada.s.sah had in her youthful days an ambitious spirit, a somewhat haughty temper, and a love of command, which had to a certain degree marred the beauty of a character which was essentially n.o.ble.

Grief soon came, however, to humble the spirit and to soften the temper. Hada.s.sah was early left a widow, and heavily the grief of bereavement fell upon one whose love had been pa.s.sionate and deep. Two children, however--a daughter and son--remained to console her. Around these, and especially her boy, the affections of Hada.s.sah clung but too closely. Abner was almost idolized by his mother. If ambition remained in her heart, it was ambition for him. He was her pride, her delight, the object of her fondest hopes; Abner's very faults seemed almost to become graces, viewed through the medium of Hada.s.sah's intense love.

Many years now flowed on, with little to disturb their even tenor.

Miriam, the only daughter of Hada.s.sah, was married to Abishai; Abner was united to a fair maiden whom his mother could receive love as a daughter indeed.

The Hebrew widow lived her early days over again in her children, and life was sweet to her still.

Then came blow upon blow in fearful succession, each inflicting a deep wound on the heart of Hada.s.sah. Both the young wives were taken in the prime of their days, within a few weeks of each other--Miriam dying childless, Naomi leaving but one little daughter behind. But the heaviest, most crushing stroke was to come!

When Seleucus, King of Pergamos, with the concurrence of the Romans, had placed Antiochus on the throne of Syria, the new monarch had speedily shown himself an active enemy of the faith held by his subjects in Judaea. Onias, their venerable High Priest, was deposed, and the traitor Jason raised to hold an office which he disgraced. A gymnasium was built by him in Jerusalem; reverence for Mosaic rites was discouraged. Both by his example and his active exertions, Jason, the unworthy successor of Aaron, sought to obliterate the distinction between Jew and Gentile, and bring all to one uniformity of worldliness and irreligion. In the words of the historian:[1] "The example of a person in his commanding position drew forth and gave full scope to the more lax dispositions which existed among the people, especially among the younger cla.s.s, who were enchanted with the ease and freedom of the Grecian customs, and weary of the restraints and limitations of their own. Such as these abandoned themselves with all the frenzy of a new excitement, from which all restraint had been withdrawn, to the license which was offered to them. The exercises of the gymnasium seem to have taken their minds with the force of fascination."

To temptations such as these, a disposition like that of Abner was peculiarly accessible. His religion had never been the religion of the heart; his patriotism was cold, he prided himself upon being a citizen of the world. Unhappily, after the death of his wife, Abner had become weary of Bethsura, and had gone up to Jerusalem to divert his mind from painful a.s.sociations. He there came under the influence of Jason, and plunged into amus.e.m.e.nt in a too successful effort to divert his mind from sorrow.

Ambition soon added its powerful lure to that of pleasure. Abner met the newly-made king shortly after his accession, and at once attracted the attention and won the favour of the monarch. There was nothing but the Hebrew's faith between him and the highest distinctions which a royal friend could bestow. Abner yielded to the brilliant temptation; he parted with his religion (more than nominal it never had been), changed his name to that of Pollux, abandoned all his former friends and pursuits, and attached himself entirely to the Syrian court, then usually residing at Antioch.

Abner, or, as we have called him, Pollux, dared not face his mother after he had turned his back upon all which she had taught him to revere. The apostate never went near Bethsura again; he kept far away from the place where he had pa.s.sed his innocent childhood, the place where slept the relics of his young Jewish wife. Abner wrote to Hada.s.sah to inform her of what he termed the change in his opinions; told her that he had given up an antiquated faith, commended his little daughter to her care, and asked her to forget that she herself had ever given birth to a son.

Hada.s.sah, after receiving this epistle, lay for weeks at the point of death, and fears were at first entertained for her reason. She arose at last from her sick-bed a changed, almost broken-hearted woman. As soon as it was possible for her to travel, the widow left Bethsura for ever. She could not endure the sight of aught to remind her of happier days; she could not bear to meet any one who might speak to her of her son. Hada.s.sah's first object was to seek out Abner, and, with all the persuasions which a mother could use, to try to draw him back from a course which must end in eternal destruction. But Abner was not to be found in Jerusalem, nor in any part of the country around it. He had carefully concealed from his mother his new name--the Hebrew was lost in the Syrian--Abner was dead indeed to his family and to his country--and to Hada.s.sah the courtier Pollux was utterly a stranger.

It was long, very long, before Hada.s.sah gave up her search for Abner, and she never gave up either her love or her hope for her son.

Affection with her was like the vein in the marble, a part of itself, which nought can wash out or remove. There was scarcely a waking hour in which the mother did not pray for her wanderer; he was often present to her mind in dreams. And the character of Hada.s.sah was elevated and purified by the grief which she silently endured. The dross of ambition and pride was burned away in the furnace of affliction; the impetuous high-spirited woman refined into the saint. Exquisitely beautiful is the remark made by a gifted writer:[2] "Everything of moment which befalls us in this life, which occasions us some great sorrow for which in this life we see not the uses, has nevertheless its definite object.... It may seem but a barren grief in the history of a life, it may prove a fruitful joy in the history of a soul."

Hada.s.sah's intense, undying affection for her unworthy son, led her to regard with peculiar affection the child whom he had left to her care.

She loved Zarah both for his sake and her own. Zarah was the one flower left in the desert over which the simoom had swept; her smile was to the bereaved mother as the bright smile of hope. Hada.s.sah, as she watched the opening virtues of Abner's daughter, could not, would not believe that the parent of Zarah could ever be finally lost. G.o.d would surely hear a mother's prayers, and save Abner from the fate of an apostate. All that Hada.s.sah asked of Heaven was to see her son once again in the path of duty, and then she would die happy. The love for Abner which still lived in the widow's bosom, was like the unseen fires that glow unseen beneath the surface of the earth, only known by the warmth of the springs that gush up into light. Even as those springs was the love of the widow for Abner's daughter.

[1] Dr. Kitto.

[2] Lord Lytton.

CHAPTER XXVI.

WEARY WANDERINGS.

Hada.s.sah had believed years previously that she had suffered to the extreme limits of human endurance--that there were no deeper depths of misery to which she could descend; but the news brought on that fatal night by Salathiel showed her that she had been mistaken. The idea of her Zarah, her tender loving Zarah, in the hands of the Syrians, brought almost intolerable woe. So carefully had the maiden been nurtured, watched over, shielded from every wrong, like an unfledged bird that has always been kept under the warm, soft, protecting wing, that the utter defencelessness of her present position struck Hada.s.sah with terror.

And how--the widow could not help asking herself--how could one so timid and sensitive stand the test of persecution from which the boldest might shrink? Zarah would weep at a tale of suffering, turn faint at the sight of blood. She was not any means courageous, and her young cousins, Solomona's sons, had been wont to make mirth of her terror when a centipede had once been found nestling under a cushion near her. Could such a soft silken thread bear the strain of a blast which might snap the strongest cable? Hada.s.sah trembled for her darling, and would willingly have consented to bear any torture, to have been able to exchange places with one so little fitted, as she thought, to endure. Sorely tried was the faith of the Hebrew lady; how little could she imagine that the prayers of many years were being answered by means of the very misfortune which was rending the cords of her heart.

In the misery of her soul, all Hada.s.sah's physical weakness and pain seemed forgotten. Before morning she had dragged her feeble steps to the gate of the prison which held her child, with the faithful Anna for her only attendant. In vain Hada.s.sah implored for admission; in vain offered to share the captivity of Zarah, if she might be but permitted to see her. She was driven away by the guards, with insolent taunts, only to return again and again, like a bird to its plundered nest! But no complaining word, no murmuring against the decree of Him who had appointed her sore trial, was heard from Hada.s.sah; only that sublime expression of unshaken faith, _Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him_.

Then the widow thought of Lycidas the Greek. She had a claim upon his grat.i.tude, and she knew that Zarah had a place in his affections. With his wealth, his talent, his eloquence, might he not help to save her child?

"Anna," said Hada.s.sah to her handmaid, "could we but find the Greek stranger, he might afford us aid and advice in this our sore need. But I know not where he abides."

"Joab would know," observed the Jewess, "and I know the quarter of the town in which he dwells with his mother's sister, Hephzibah; for I have dealt with her for olives and melons. But, lady, you are weary, the heat of the sun is now great; seek some place of shelter and rest while I go in search of Joab."

"There is no rest for me till I find my Zarah; and what care I for shelter when she has but that of a prison!" cried Hada.s.sah.

The two women then proceeded on their quest to a quarter of Jerusalem inhabited only by the poorest of the people. Simple as were the garments worn by the widow lady, she carried with her so unmistakably the stamp of a person of distinction, that her appearance there excited surprise amongst the half-clad, half-starved children that stared at her as she pa.s.sed along. The street was so narrow that the women, meeting a loaded camel in it, had to stand close to the wall on one side, to suffer the unwieldy beast to pa.s.s on the other. Hungry lean dogs were growling over well-picked bones cast forth in the way, evil odours rendered the stifling air more oppressive. But Hada.s.sah went forward as if insensible of any outward annoyance.

Hephzibah, a miserable-looking old woman, with eyes disfigured and half blinded by ophthalmia, was standing in her doorway, throwing forth the refuse of vegetables, in which she dealt. Anna had frequently seen her before, and no introduction was needed.

"Where is Joab?" asked the handmaid, at the bidding of Hada.s.sah.