Indeed, at this time
and place it was the Jews rather than the Christians who were in danger
at the hands of the Syrians and Greeks, who hated them for their wealth
and faith, threatening them continually with robbery and massacre. But
as yet that storm did not burst, and in its brewing the Christians, who
were few, humble, and of all races, escaped notice.

Thus it came about that Miriam dwelt in quiet, occupying herself much
with her art of modelling and going abroad but little, since it was
scarcely safe for her, the grandchild of the rich Jew merchant, to show
her face in the streets. Though she was surrounded by every luxury, far
more than she needed, indeed, this lack of liberty irked her who had
been reared in the desert, till at times she grew melancholy and would
sit for hours looking on the sea and thinking. She thought of her mother
who had sat thus before her; of her father, who had perished beneath the
gladiators' swords; of the kindly old men who had nurtured her, and of
the sufferings of her brothers and sisters in the faith in Rome and at
Jerusalem. But most of all she thought of Marcus, her Roman lover, whom,
strive as she would, she could never forget--no, not for a single hour.
She loved him, that was the truth of it, and between them there was a
great gulf fixed, not of the sea only, which ships could sail, but of
that command which the dead had laid upon her. He was a pagan and she
was a Christian, and they might not wed. By now, too, it was likely that
he had forgotten her, the girl who took his fancy in the desert. At Rome
there were many noble and lovely women--oh! she could scarcely bear to
think of it. Yet night by night she prayed for him, and morn by morn
his face arose before her half-awakened eyes. Where was he? What was he
doing? For aught she knew he might be dead. Nay, for then, surely, her
heart would have warned her. Still, she craved for tidings, and alas!
there were none.

At length tidings did come--the best of tidings. One day, wearying
of the house, with the permission of her grandfather, and escorted by
servants, Miriam had gone to walk in the gardens that he owned to
the north of that part of the city on the mainland, which was called
Palaetyrus. They were lovely gardens, well watered and running down to
the sea-edge, and in them grew beautiful palms and other trees, with
fruitful shrubs and flowers. Here, when they had roamed a while, Miriam
and Nehushta sat down upon the fall