y
child, my child, have I not suffered enough? Must you bring my sin back
to me in this fashion? May I not shut my eyes even here in the sunlight
and be at peace a while? What have you to tell me that you come thus
often to stand here so strengthless and so still? Nay, it is not you; it
is my sin that wears your shape!" and Benoni hid his face in his hands,
rocking himself to and fro and moaning aloud.

Presently he sprang up. "It was no sin," he said, "it was a righteous
act. I offered her to the outraged majesty of Jehovah, as Abraham, our
father, would have offered Isaac, but the curse of that false prophet is
upon me and mine. That was the fault of Demas, the half-bred hound who
crept into my kennel, and whom, because she loved him, I gave to her as
husband. Thus did he repay me, the traitor, and I--I repaid him. Ay! But
the sword fell upon two necks. He should have suffered, and he alone.
Oh, Rachel, my lost daughter Rachel, forgive me, you whose bones lie
there beneath the sea, forgive me! I cannot bear those eyes of yours. I
am old, Rachel, I am old."

Thus Benoni muttered to himself, as he walked swiftly to and fro; then,
worn out with his burst of solitary, dream-bred passion, he sank back
upon the couch.

As he sat thus, an Arab doorkeeper, gorgeously apparelled and armed with
a great sword, appeared in the portico, and after looking carefully to
see that his master was not asleep, made a low salaam.

"What is it?" asked Benoni shortly.

"Master, a young lord named Caleb wishes speech with you."

"Caleb? I know not the name," replied Benoni. "Stay, it must be the
son of Hilliel, whom the Roman governor"--and turning, he spat upon the
ground--"has brought to his own again. I heard that he had come to take
possession of the great house on the quay. Bring him hither."

The Arab saluted and went. Presently he returned and ushered in Caleb,
now a noble-looking young man clad in fine raiment. Benoni bowed to
him and prayed him to be seated. Caleb bowed in return, touching his
forehead in Eastern fashion with his hand, from which, as his host
noticed, the forefinger was missing.

"I am your servant, sir," said Benoni with grave courtesy.

"Master, I am your slave," answered Caleb. "I have been told that you
knew my father; therefore, on this, my first visit to Tyre, I come to
make my respects to you. I am the son of Hilliel, who perished many
years ago in Jerusalem. You may have heard his story and mine."