yes had
sparkled with the light of enthusiasm. She felt that her soul was filled
with the greatness of the Most High and that she had the gift of speech
to make another familiar with the knowledge she herself possessed. But
this time also custom required her to keep silence. Her heart ached, and
as she again moved among the multitude and convinced herself that Hosea
had not yet come, she went home, as twilight was beginning to gather, and
joined the others on the roof.

No one there appeared to have missed her, not even poor melancholy
Milcah, and she felt unutterably lonely in this house.

If Hosea would only come, if she might have a strong breast on which to
lean, if this sense of being a stranger in her own home, this useless
life beneath the roof she was obliged to call hers, though she never felt
thoroughly at home under it, would but cease. Moses and Aaron, too, had
gone away, taking Hur's grandson with them; but no one had deemed her,
who lived and breathed solely for her people and their welfare, worthy to
learn whither their journey led or what was its purpose.

Why had the God to whom she devoted her whole life and being made her a
woman, yet given her the mind and soul of a man?

She waited, as if to test whether any of the circle of kindly-natured
people to which she belonged really loved her, for some one of the elders
or the children to accost her; but Eleasar's little ones were pressing
around their grandparents, and she had never understood how to make
herself agreeable to children. Elisheba was directing the slaves who were
putting the finishing touches to the packing; Milcah sat with her cat in
her lap, gazing into vacancy. No one heeded or spoke to her.

Bitter pain overpowered Miriam, and after she had shared the evening meal
with the others, and forced herself not to disturb by her own sorrowful
mood, the joyous excitement of the children, who looked forward to the
pilgrimage as a great pleasure, she longed to go out of doors.

Closely veiled, she passed alone through the camp and what she beheld
there was certainly ill-suited to dispel the mood that oppressed her.
There was plenty of noise, and though sometimes devout hymns, full of joy
and hope, echoed on the air, she heard far more frequently savage
quarrelling and rebellious words. When her ear caught threats or
reproaches levelled against her noble brother, she quickened her pace,
but she could not escape her anxiety concerning what would