hen the men in charge of her
locked the door and went away.

Sinking exhausted to the floor, Miriam tried to sleep, but could not,
for her brain seemed to be on fire. Whenever she shut her eyes there
sprang up before them visions of some dreadful scene which she had
witnessed, while in her ears echoed now the shouts of the victors, now
the pitiful cry of the dying, and now again the voice of the wounded
Marcus calling her "Most Beloved." Was this indeed so, she wondered?
Was it possible that he had not forgotten her during those years of
separation when there must have been so many lovely ladies striving to
win him, the rich, high-placed Roman lord, to be their lover or their
husband? She did not know, she could not tell: perhaps, in such a
plight, he would have called any woman who came to save him his Most
Beloved, yes, even old Nehushta, and even then and there she smiled a
little at the thought. Yet his voice rang true, and he had sent her the
ring, the pearls and the letter, that letter which, although she knew
every word of it, she still carried hidden in the bosom of her robe. Oh!
she believed that he did love her, and, believing, rejoiced with all her
heart that it had pleased God to allow her to save his life, even at the
cost of her own. She had forgotten. There was his wound--he might die of
it. Nay, surely he would not die. For her sake, the Essenes who knew him
would treat him well, and they were skilful healers; also, what better
nurse than Nehushta could be found? Ah! poor Nou, how she would grieve
over her. What sorrow must have taken hold of her when she heard the
rock door shut and found that her nursling was cut off and captured by
the Jews.

Happy, indeed, was it for Miriam that she could not witness what had
chanced at the further side of that block of stone; that she could not
see Nehushta beating at it with her hands and striving to thrust her
thin fingers to the latch which she had no instrument to lift, until the
bones were stripped of skin and flesh. That she could not hear Marcus,
come to himself again, but unable to rise from off his knees, cursing
and raving with agony at her loss, and because she, the tender lady whom
he loved, for his sake had fallen into the hands of the relentless
Jews. Yes, that she could not hear him cursing and raving in his utter
helplessness, till at length the brain gave in his shattered head, and
he fell into a fevered madness, that for many weeks was unpierced b