Part 7 (2/2)

Zarah sighed, and drooped her head.

”Was it not a proud moment for Achsah, when Othniel, after the conquest of Kirjathsepher, claimed her hand as the victor's prize?” asked Hada.s.sah.

”But Achsah was the daughter of a Caleb,” said Zarah. Then, raising her head, she suddenly inquired--”Did my father also destine me to be the bride of my kinsman?”

Hada.s.sah winced at the question, as if a painful wound had been touched.

”Oh, my child, have pity on me,” she faintly murmured, ”and speak not of him!”

Zarah had for long known that there was one subject which she dared never approach. Her grandmother had, as it were, one locked chamber in her heart, which no one might venture to open. Whether Zarah's father were dead or not, the maiden knew not. She faintly remembered a tall, handsome man, who had played with her tresses and danced her in his arms when she was a child, in her early home at Bethsura; but since she had left that home in company with her grandmother, she had never seen him nor heard his name. The slightest allusion to her father by Zarah had caused such distress to Hada.s.sah, that the child had soon learned to be silent, though not to forget. Hada.s.sah often spoke of Miriam, her only daughter, and of Zarah's own gentle mother--twin-roses, as she would call them, both early gathered for heaven in the first year of their wedded lives--but of her son she never would speak. A mystery hung round the fate of Abner--such was his name--which his daughter vainly longed to penetrate. Her heart reproached her now for the unguarded question into which she had been surprised.

”Oh, forgive me, mother,” said Zarah, kissing the hand of Hada.s.sah, which was tremulous and cold; ”your word, your will, shall be enough for me in all things, except--oh, ask me not to wed my kinsman.”

”Is it, can it be because another has a nearer place in your heart?”

said Hada.s.sah. The fair countenance of Zarah became suddenly rosy as the sunlit cloud, then pale as Lebanon snow, at the question.

”Oh, then, my fears are too true!” exclaimed Hada.s.sah, in a tone not of wrath but of anguish. ”Must the sins of the father be visited upon the innocent child! A Gentile--a heathen--an idolater! Would I had died ere this day!”

”Be not angry with me, mother,” faltered Zarah, wetting Hada.s.sah's hand with her tears.

”I am not angry, my poor dove,” cried the widow. ”Woe is me that I have been, as it were, constrained to expose you to this cruel snare.

But you will break through it,” she added, with more animation, ”my bird will rise above earth with her silver wings unsullied and bright!

Various are the temptations which the soul's enemy employs to draw away G.o.d's servants from their allegiance; some he would sway through their fears; others he would win by the love of the world, its wealth and its pleasures; others he would chain by their hearts' strong affections.

But the Lord gives strength to his people, to resist and to conquer, whether the temptation be from fear or from love. You are the worthy kinsman of Solomona, who gave life itself for the faith.”

”Perhaps the sacrifice of life is not the hardest to make,” Zarah dreamily replied.

”Solomona gave her seven sons,” said Hada.s.sah.

”Oh, what a mercy-stroke to her was that which let her follow them!”

exclaimed Zarah. ”Had she been left to survive all whom she loved, Solomona had been the most wretched woman on earth!”

”No; not the most wretched,” said Hada.s.sah, with deep feeling, ”for they all died in the faith. Better, all, far better to lose seven by death, than one by--by treason against G.o.d!” And in an almost inaudible voice the aged lady added, closing her eyes, ”Must I know that misery twice?”

”No, mother, mine own dear mother, you shall never know that misery through me!” exclaimed Zarah with animation. ”I will pray, I will strive, I will try to put away, even from my thoughts, all that would come between me and the faith of a daughter of Abraham, only guide me, help me, tell your child what she should do,” and the maiden pa.s.sionately kissed again and again the hand of Hada.s.sah, and then pillowed her aching head on her parent's bosom. Hada.s.sah folded her there in a long and tender embrace.

”I would send you to Bethsura, to my aged cousin, Rachel,” said the widow, ”only”--

”Oh, send me not away; let me stay beside you; your health is failing; I should never know peace afar from you!” sobbed Zarah, in a tone of entreaty.

”I dare not send my child to Idumea, with no safe escort, and the Syrians, men of Belial, holding the land,” said Hada.s.sah. ”Better keep her here under my wing, in the quiet seclusion of my home. But, oh, my child, attend to the voice of your mother; you must avoid meeting the Gentile stranger; you must be little in the lower apartments, Zarah, and never save when I am there also. Your trial will not last long; the Athenian's wounds are healing; after the Pa.s.sover-feast, Abishai will leave Jerusalem to join the patriot band. When he is once safe beyond reach of the enemy, I will no longer for one hour harbour Lycidas under my roof; he has been here far too long already. Your painful struggle will now last but a short time, my Zarah.”

Zarah thought, though she did not say so, that the heart struggle would last as long as her earthly existence.

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