mposed upon him the virile duty of vengeance, doubt
and hesitation would have vanished and his father's summons would have
spurred him on to action; but who had been the heaviest sufferers here?
Surely it was the Egyptians whom Moses' curse had robbed of thousands of
beloved lives, while the Hebrews had escaped their revenge by flight. His
wrath had been kindled by the destruction of the Hebrews' houses, but he
saw no sufficient cause for a bloody revenge, when he remembered the
unspeakable anguish inflicted upon Pharaoh and his subjects by the men of
his own race.

Nay; he had nothing to avenge; he seemed to himself like a man who
beholds his father and mother in mortal peril, owns that he cannot save
both, yet knows that while staking his life to rescue one he must leave
the other to perish. If he obeyed the summons of his people, he would
lose his honor, which he had kept as untarnished as his brazen helm, and
with it the highest goal of his life; if he remained loyal to Pharaoh and
his oath, he must betray his own race, have all his future days darkened
by his father's curse, and resign the brightest dream he cherished; for
Miriam was a true child of her people and he would be blest indeed if her
lofty soul could be as ardent in love as it was bitter in hate.

Stately and beautiful, but with gloomy eyes and hand upraised in warning,
her image rose before his mental vision as he sat gazing over the
smouldering fire out into the darkness. And now the pride of his manhood
rebelled, and it seemed base cowardice to cast aside, from dread of a
woman's wrath and censure, all that a warrior held most dear.

"Nay, nay," he murmured, and the scale containing duty, love, and filial
obedience suddenly kicked the beam. He was what he was--the leader of ten
thousand men in Pharaoh's army. He had vowed fealty to him--and to none
other. Let his people fly from the Egyptian yoke, if they desired. He,
Hosea, scorned flight. Bondage had sorely oppressed them, but the highest
in the land had received him as an equal and held him worthy of the
loftiest honor. To repay them with treachery and desertion was foreign to
his nature and, drawing a long breath, he sprang to his feet with the
conviction that he had chosen aright. A fair woman and the weak yearning
of a loving heart should not make him a recreant to grave duties and the
loftiest purposes of his life.

"I will stay!" cried a loud voice in his breast. "Father is wise and
kind,