Him, as
one that is in bitterness for his first-born_ (Zech. xii. 10). _And
the Lord shall be King over all the earth_" (Zech. xiv. 9).

Abishai left the dwelling of Hadassah with a perturbed spirit,
unwilling to own to himself that views so widely differing from his own
could have any foundation in truth. The idea of a rejected, suffering,
dying Messiah was beyond measure repugnant to the soul of the Hebrew.

"See what comes of concentrating all the powers of the mind on abstruse
study!" Abishai muttered to himself as he descended the hill.
"Hadassah is going mad; her judgment is giving way under the strain."

[1] Of course, the Hebrew roll was not divided into chapters; they are
but given for facility of reference.

[2] "God," in the original, is "Elohim," a _plural_ word.

CHAPTER XII.

TRIALS OF THE HEART.

For the first time in the course of her life, Zarah dreaded a meeting
with Hadassah. Though the season was now so far advanced that the heat
of the sun was great, the maiden lingered on the shadeless housetop,
leaning her brow against the parapet, listlessly gazing towards
Jerusalem, but with her mind scarcely taking in the objects upon which
her eyes were fixed. Was it a foreboding of coming sorrow, or a
feeling of self-reproach, that brooded over the maiden's soul? Zarah
was afraid to analyze her own feelings: she only knew that her heart
was very heavy.

Nearly two hours thus passed. The sun had now approached the horizon,
and the heat was less oppressive. Zarah heard the slow step of
Hadassah ascending the stair, and rose to meet her, but with a
sensation of fear. The remembrance of that look of sad displeasure,
such as had never been turned upon her before, had haunted the mind of
the conscious girl. Was Hadassah angry with her daughter? Would she
come to probe a heart which had never from childhood kept a secret from
one so tenderly loved? Zarah was afraid to raise her eyes to
Hadassah's when they met, lest she should encounter that stern look
again; but never had the aged lady's face worn an expression of greater
tenderness than it did when, on the housetop, she rejoined the child of
her love.

"Have you been here in the heat of the sun, my dove, letting the fierce
rays beat on your unveiled face?" said Hadassah, after printing a kiss
on the maiden's brow. "Nay, I must chide you, my Zarah. Seat yourself
where yon tall palm now throws its shadow, and I will sit beside you.