ng to the Essenes, it was day. So she rose and put on her
robes, and they passed together into the great chamber. Here they found
the Essenes at prayer and making their reverences to the sun which they
could not see, after which they ate their morning meal. Now Miriam spoke
to Ithiel, telling him of her trouble about her grandfather, who, if he
himself still lived, would think that she was dead.

"One thing is certain," replied her great-uncle: "that you shall not go
out to seek him, nor must you tell him of your hiding-place, since soon
or late this might mean that all of us would be destroyed, if only for
the sake of the food which we have hoarded."

Miriam asked if she could not send a message. He answered:

"No, since none would dare to take it." In the end, however, after she
had pleaded with him long and earnestly, it was agreed that she should
write the words, "I am safe and well, but in a place that I must not
tell you of," and sign her name upon a piece of parchment. This letter
Ithiel, who purposed to creep out into the city that evening disguised
as a beggar, to seek for tidings, said he would take, and, if might
be, bribe some soldier to deliver it to Benoni at the house of the high
priest, if he were there.

So Miriam wrote the letter, and at nightfall Ithiel and another brother
departed, taking it with them.

On the following morning they returned, safe, but with a dreadful tale
of the slaughters in the city and in the Temple courts, where the mad
factions still fought furiously.

"Your tidings, my uncle?" said Miriam, rising to meet him. "Does he
still live?"

"Be of good comfort," he answered. "Benoni reached the house of Mathias
in safety, and Caleb also, and now they are sheltering within the Temple
walls. This much I had from one of the high priest's guards, who, for
the price of a piece of gold I gave him, swore that he would deliver the
letter without fail. But, child, I will take no more, for that soldier
eyed me curiously and said it was scarcely safe for beggars to carry
gold."

Miriam thanked him for his goodness and his news, saying that they
lifted a weight from her heart.

"I have other tidings that may perhaps make it lighter still," went on
the old man, looking at her sideways. "Titus with a mighty host draws
near to Jerusalem from Caesarea."

"There is no joy in that tale," replied Miriam, "for it means that the
Holy City will be besieged and taken."

"Nay, but among that hos