"'Did ye offer unto me slain beasts and sacrifices forty years in the wilderness, O house of Israel? And afterward ye took up the tabernacle of Moloch, and the star of the G.o.d Rephan, the figures which ye made to worship them. I will carry you away beyond Babylon.'

"Our fathers had the tabernacle of the testimony in the wilderness, according to the covenant of G.o.d unto Moses, who fashioned it like unto the figure that was revealed unto him. This tabernacle also our fathers brought into the promised land, when they entered it with Joshua, G.o.d thrusting out the heathen nations from before their faces, and in it they worshipped unto the days of David, who, finding favor in the sight of G.o.d, asked that he might build a habitation for the G.o.d of Jacob.

And Solomon, his son, built a temple. Howbeit the Most High dwelleth not in houses made with hands; as saith the prophet--

"'The heaven is my throne, And the earth the footstool of my feet; What manner of house will ye build me? saith the Lord, Or what is the place of my rest?

Did not my hands make all things?'"

Here the speaker paused and looked about upon the faces of his audience; some were sneering outright, others whispering to their neighbors, while others still regarded him with looks of malignant hatred. Not one of all the seventy had apprehended his meaning, he thought bitterly. Not one cared for his words. Of what use to continue the sublime retrospect. A wave of fiery indignation swept away the last remnant of fear, and in a voice ringing with inspired pa.s.sion, he burst out:

"Ye stiff-necked and uncirc.u.mcised in heart and ears! Ye do always resist the Holy Spirit; as your fathers did, so do ye. Which of the prophets did not your fathers persecute? And they killed them which showed before of the coming of the Righteous One, of whom ye have now become the betrayers and murderers. Ye who received the law as it was ordained by angels and kept it not!"

For an instant there was a breathless silence, that mighty arrow tipped with a living fire had found lodgment in every heart. Then a low, murderous hiss ran about the circle. With one accord the a.s.sembly rose to their feet, but some invisible power held them back.

Stephen, the despised follower of the crucified Nazarene, was looking up steadfastly. Angels had lifted for him the dark veil of mortality; the hall of judgment and the faces of his infuriated judges faded from before his eyes; he saw instead the unspeakable glories of the New Jerusalem, G.o.d enthroned amid innumerable companies of angels, and Jesus standing with outstretched hands to receive him. In an ecstasy of joy he cried out:

"Behold, I see the heavens opened, and the Son of Man standing on the right hand of G.o.d!"

Only a glimpse, but what mattered it now to him that the dark flood of hatred had broken loose and was sweeping him away with wild tumult towards certain death. He did not see the infuriated mob of his executioners; he scarce realized that he was being dragged through the streets followed by a yelling mult.i.tude, roused from their apathy by the familiar scent of blood.

"Beyond the gates--it is the law!"

"This is the place--here are stones in abundance! Quick! or the Nazarenes will be to the rescue."

"Let the witnesses cast the first stones--it is the law!"

"Well thrown, Esek! Again--here is a larger one! Now the other, quickly!"

But the other witness, with face as white as that of the dying man, had broken through the circle and fled away shrieking towards the city--"My G.o.d! my G.o.d! they are killing him!"

"Let be, the law is fulfilled. Quick, or he will yet be rescued--the mob is increasing. What is that he is saying?" For the victim, blood-stained, faltering, had dragged himself to his knees.

"Lord Jesus, receive my spirit."

A shower of stones and fierce yells; he is sinking, but again he speaks.

Saul can hear it, for he stands near, guarding the garments of them that are fulfilling the law. They can all hear, for he cries in a loud voice, that his murderers may remember it afterward for the comfort of their guilty souls:

"Lord, lay not this sin to their charge." And when he had said this, he fell asleep.

CHAPTER XXIX.

THE WATCHFUL LOVE.

Anat was spinning in the cool shadow of the house; the stones of the little court had been newly washed, and a refreshing odor of cleanliness mingled with the fragrance which poured out from the snowy bells of the lilies beside the cistern. Close to her feet snuggled the three small brown children, listening while she sang. After a time the singer faltered a little; she was chanting the Psalm of the Watchful Love:

"Jehovah is thy keeper, Jehovah thy abode on thy right hand; The sun shall not hurt thee by day, Neither the moon by night."

She paused. What was that deep, dull roar? Her face paled a little.

"Sing!" cried the boy imperatively, pulling at her robe.

"Sing!" echoed the baby, looking up at her with his soft, starry eyes.

As for the little maiden, she contented herself with softly stroking the girl's sandaled foot.

"Jehovah keep thee from all evil."

Yes, she could surely hear a sound of tumult--what could it be?

"He will keep thy life,

--"O my G.o.d! Keep him--keep him!--

"Jehovah keep thy coming and thy going Henceforth and forever!"

The singer started to her feet with a cry. The street door had burst open violently, a man rushed in, ghastly, breathless, with wild staring eyes; she at first failed to recognize Ben Obed.

"My G.o.d! they are killing him!"

"Where?"

"Outside the Damascus Gate--they are stoning him!"

Anat stood for an instant like some beautiful soulless statue of despair. Then a wild fire leapt to her eyes.

"Tell them!" she said, and fled away out of the open door, away--away toward the Damascus Gate.

Women stared after her, men stretched forth their hands to grasp her, but she heeded them not; her feet seemed leaden, the minutes hours. The Damascus Gate--would she ever reach it? Again and again Ben Obed's awful cry sounded in her ears:

"My G.o.d! they are killing him!"

The gate--the gate at last; but it is choked with people coming in.

Men, she dimly saw, men with long robes and broad phylacteries; men to whom the gate-keepers did reverence while they shrank back with involuntary fear. Men who drew away from her white robe and whiter face muttering, "A mad woman--a mad dog!"

At last she has struggled through them, outside the Damascus Gate at last. Where--where? Yes, yonder is a crowd, it must be there.

"Let me through, for G.o.d's sake! Let me through!"

Staring stupidly at her, the crowd separated. There upon the ground, half-hidden under a pile of stones, lay--something. She threw herself upon her knees, pulling madly at the rough, broken rock with her delicate fingers. Then she gave a long, heart-broken scream and fell forward in merciful unconsciousness.