e distance, now and then stood
still or doubled up, at times disappearing altogether behind palings,
shrubs, or trees. It was evident the shadow wanted to hide itself,
and was looking for something, listening and watching for something
or somebody.

At the open window of Abel's cottage a low voice called out:

"Golda! Golda!"

From the window bent a face, whitened in the moonlight, and
surrounded by waves of black hair. A low passionate whisper sounded
in the still evening air:

"Meir! Meir! I heard a terrible noise and awful voices! My heart
trembled in fear; but it is nothing now you are here."

Two arms were stretched forth towards the approaching young man. The
corals on her neck quivered under the throbbing emotion where sobs
mingled with laughter.

Suddenly she uttered a piercing cry.

Meir stood before her, and she saw his torn garments and the red scar
on his forehead.

She moaned, and put her hand gently on his brow, and caressingly
touched the dusty hair and ragged clothes with the almost motherly
feeling that longs to comfort and soothe. Meir sat on the bench in
the posture of a man deadly tired. He leaned his head against the
window-frame, and seemed to draw in the mild evening breeze. The moon
reflected herself in the mournful eyes that were raised in question
towards the silvery clouds. After a while he straightened himself and
said quickly, in a low voice:

"Golda, people may search for me; if they find me they will take my
treasure. I will give it to you to hide it, and then I will go into
the fields and woods to cry out unto Jehovah for mercy."

The girl, too, stood straight and grave. "Give it to me," she said
quietly. The leaves of the paper rustled in Meir's hands, and, giving
them to the girl, he said:

"Hide it in your breast, and guard my treasure as the apple of your
eye. It contains the precious words of my ancestor, which have
removed all blindness from my eyes. They will be my passport which
will open to me the doors and hearts of wise men. It is quiet here,
and safe--nobody sees or suspects. When I am ready I shall come and
ask you for it."

Golda took the paper.

"Rest tranquil about your treasure," she said. "I would rather lay
down my life than give it up to anyone but you. It is safe here, it
is quiet, nobody will suspect."

Meir rose from the bench.

"Sleep in peace," he said. "I must go; my soul is full of cries; I
must walk, walk. I shall go and throw myself down