y on the spot.

Another two months went by, and at length this officer arrived, attended
by an escort of twenty soldiers.

As it chanced, on a certain morning in the winter season, Miriam
with Nehushta was walking on the Jericho road, when suddenly they saw
approaching towards them this little body of armed men. Perceiving that
they were Romans, they turned out of the path to hide themselves among
the thorns of the desert. Thereon he who seemed to be the officer
spurred his horse forward to intercept them.

"Do not run--stand still," said Nehushta to Miriam, "and show no sign of
fear."

So Miriam halted and began to gather a few autumn flowers that still
bloomed among the bushes, till the shadow of the officer fell upon
her--that shadow in which she was destined to walk all her life-days.

"Lady," said a pleasant voice in Greek, spoken with a somewhat foreign
accent--"lady, pardon, and I pray you, do not be alarmed. I am a
stranger to this part of the country, which I visit on official
business. Will you of your kindness direct me to the village of a people
called Essenes, who live somewhere in this desert?"

"Oh, sir!" answered Miriam, "do you, who come with Roman soldiers, mean
them any harm?"

"Not I. But why do you ask?"

"Because, sir, I am of their community."

The officer stared at her--this beautiful, blue-eyed, white-skinned,
delicate-featured girl, whose high blood proclaimed itself in every tone
and gesture.

"You, lady, of the community of the Essenes! Surely then those priests
in Jerusalem lie more deeply than I thought. They told me that the
Essenes were old ascetics who worship Apollo, and could not bear so
much as the sight of a woman. And now you say you are an Essene--you, by
Bacchus! you!" and he looked at her with an admiration which,
although there was nothing brutal or even rude about it, was amusingly
undisguised.

"I am their guest," she said.

"Their guest? Why, this is stranger still. If these spiritual
outlaws--the word is that old high priest's, not mine--share their bread
and water with such guests, my sojourn among them will be happier than I
thought."

"They brought me up, I am their ward," Miriam explained again.

"In truth, my opinion of the Essenes rises, and I am convinced that
those priests slandered them. If they can shape so sweet a lady, surely
they must themselves be good and gentle"; and he bowed gravely, perhaps
to mark the compliment.

"Sir, they are both g