The return of Javan to the home of his father put an end, in a great
degree, to the freedom and independence that Naomi had hitherto
enjoyed in directing her rambles according to her own inclination.
Her brother constantly offered to be her companion and protector,
when he was not engaged in carrying on his secret machinations in
favour of Simon, and it was therefore but seldom that she could now
find an opportunity of visiting her beloved old friend at Bethany.
Occasionally, however, she enjoyed that satisfaction, accompanied by
Claudia and escorted by her cousin Theophilus. Since her return to
Jerusalem from Pella, she had become better acquainted with her
cousin than she had been before. He was naturally extremely reserved
in his manner, and the consciousness that on the important subject of
religion he differed from the family of Zadok, had made him rather
shun his relatives, when he was not called upon by duty or kindness
to associate with them. It has been mentioned that during the time
of Zadok's illness, when the Zealots carried on their wildest
outrages, Theophilus remained in Jerusalem to be a comfort and
protection to Salome and Claudia. To the former he had always been
very much attached, for the gentleness and meekness of her
disposition accorded with his ideas of what was becoming in a female
character much more than the energetic spirit of her daughter; and he
frequently lamented that she should remain ignorant of the religion
of Him who was eminently "meek and lowly of heart," and whose
doctrines he felt sure would have found a suitable abode in her
amiable and pious spirit. But "the Lord seeth not as man seeth," and
judgeth not as man judgeth. The proud and self-confident Naomi
became, by the teaching of His Spirit, a mild disciple of Christ--she
whom Theophilus regarded as too high-minded and self-willed to
receive the humbling doctrines of Christianity, had already embraced
them with eagerness and sincerity; but her more gentle mother shunned
and dreaded the same doctrines, and while appealing to the mercy of
God, yet put confidence in the flesh, and--as she had been brought up
to do--trusted in part to her own works for acceptance with Him.
For Claudia Theophilus conceived a much warmer affection. The
candour of her disposition, and her openness to conviction when he
conversed with her on the folly and iniquity of her former religion,
won his esteem; and the intelligence and seriousness of her remarks
made him hope that in due time her heart would be prepared for the
reception of that faith to which he was a most zealous convert. He
delighted to read and explain to her the writings of Moses and the
prophets, and to point out to her, through the whole series of sacred
Scripture, the promise of the great Messiah, the seed of the woman
who should bruise the serpent's head. He did not altogether dwell on
these glorious passages which depict his triumphant advent. He had
learned to believe and adore him in his humiliation, and he showed to
Claudia how the Saviour must be stricken and smitten, and bear the
transgressions of men; and how he must be despised and rejected by
those whom he came to save; and at last, how it was written of him
that he should make "his grave with the wicked, and with the rich in
his death," though "he had done no violence, neither was any deceit
in his mouth."
By these means he opened her mind to the real character of the
Messiah, whose coming she still regarded as future, and prepared her
to receive the lowly Jesus of Nazareth as "him of whom Moses and the
prophets did speak." When Naomi returned home, Theophilus had not
further enlightened his young pupil in the Christian faith. He was
well satisfied with the progress she was making under his instruction
and that of Salome and Deborah; but when at their next meeting she
informed him of the confession which her friend had so boldly made,
and with tears entreated him to try and convince her of her error,
and thus restore her to her father's favour, he felt that he could no
longer dissemble his own faith. Amaziah, in declaring himself and
Judith to be Christians, had not mentioned his son; he had wished him
to act as he saw best for himself; and Claudia had no idea that her
preceptor was also a Nazarene, and that he had hitherto purposely
withheld from her the knowledge of his being so. She was therefore
not a little astonished at his declaration that he had been baptized
into the church of Christ many years ago, and that the dearest wish
of his heart was to see her as sincere a believer in the crucified
Jesus as he was himself.
From that time Theophilus took every opportunity of conversing with
Claudia on the subject most interesting to him; and Naomi rejoiced to
find that her friend's prejudices against Christianity were gradually
disappearing. She delighted to join in the animated discussions that
frequently occurred between Claudia and her young teacher, and her
own fervent enthusiasm inspired fresh zeal into the calm but devoted
spirit of Theophilus. The same faith animated them both, and perfect
confidence was soon established between the cousins, such as they had
never felt in former days. Naomi was regarded by Theophilus as a
sister; and the warmest efforts and the most heartfelt prayers were
exerted by these Christian relatives for the advancement of Claudia's
true happiness and eternal salvation.
When Amaziah and Judith became inmates in the house of Zadok, they
saw with much concern the evident attachment that subsisted between
their son and the young Roman maiden; for they knew not that the
Spirit of the Lord was working in her heart, and bringing her out of
heathen darkness into the glorious light of the Gospel. But when
Theophilus informed them of the progress which the true religion had
already made in dispelling the errors of her education, and bringing
her to the knowledge of God, they rejoiced that he had bestowed his
affections on one so amiable and so sensible as Claudia. The
interest which they would naturally have felt in instructing so
engaging and ingenuous a pupil, was greatly enhanced by the prospect
of her becoming ere long their daughter; and they resolved that as
soon as she was prepared to embrace the religion of Jesus, and to
receive baptism, they would solicit her father's consent to her union
with Theophilus, and removal with them to Ephesus.
Naomi sincerely rejoiced in her friend's happiness; but the idea that
the time was drawing near when Amaziah and Judith were to depart from
Jerusalem, and that then Claudia also would be removed far away from
her, and she should be left without one Christian friend in whom she
could confide, filled her with sorrow. While Mary of Bethany lived,
she knew that she should not want either sympathy or counsel; but she
saw that the aged saint was sinking gradually into the grave, and her
own prospects were cheerless and gloomy as regarded the present
world. Nevertheless all the persuasions and arguments of Claudia and
her relatives were quite unavailing to induce her to accompany them
in their exile. Her parents would have consented to her doing so,
for Zadok saw how hopeless it was that she would ever return to the
faith of her fathers; and he would not have opposed any plan by which
the dishonour of her apostasy might have been kept from the knowledge
of the world. To Salome the loss of her daughter's society would
have been irreparable and severe; and yet she almost entreated her to
go. She believed that Naomi would thus be removed from many griefs
and much anxiety; and she also dreaded the evil days that her heart
foreboded were coming on Zion, and desired to know that her beloved
child was placed beyond the reach of Judea's chastisement. Not even
her mother's wishes could in this instance shake the resolution of
Naomi: she could not believe that it was her duty to forsake her
father and mother, so long as she was not absolutely prevented from
exercising her own religion, and compelled to conform to anything
which her conscience condemned. This was not the case, for Zadok was
too wise to resort to such measures; and in the privacy of her own
chamber she was permitted to pass her time according to the dictates
of her own unalterable faith, and the customs which she had learned
from her Christian brethren at Pella. No prospects of personal
security and happiness could tempt her to leave her parents, more
especially in a time of danger and anxiety; and her firmness on this
point moved the heart of Zadok towards his daughter, and made him in
some measure relax from the sternness of manner which he had assumed
towards her ever since her return from Pella.
Javan knew not that his uncle and Judith were members of the sect
which he so greatly despised. Their apostasy had been hitherto kept
secret from him; and therefore if he had believed that heavy
calamities were coming on the city of his pride, he would have urged
his sister to remove for a time to Ephesus. But Javan dreamt only of
his country's triumph, and admitted not one thought of her
desolation. He looked forward with hope and confidence to the result
of the war, and exulted in the prospect of meeting the Romans, hand
to hand, before the walls of Jerusalem. Therefore he encouraged
Naomi to remain, and witness the glorious deliverance which the Lord
would bring about for his own people; and though far from sharing his
triumphant expectations, she was well pleased that he did not oppose
her wishes, and her determination to share whatever peril should
betide her parents.
The family of Zadok were thus circumstanced and thus influenced,
when, on a calm and lovely evening, Theophilus, with his cousin and
Claudia, crossed the brook of Kedron, and ascended the Mount of
Olives. Theophilus led his companions a little out of the direct
road to Bethany, that they might visit the garden of Gethsemane--that
spot so sacred and so dear to every one who bears the name of Him,
who beneath those aged trees wept and agonized for them! Tradition
had preserved the situation of the very spot on which the Saviour
knelt; and in deep emotion the three young converts now stood round
the consecrated spot, while Theophilus fervently prayed that they all
might be partakers in the redemption purchased by the mysterious
sufferings of the Son of God. Naomi had not visited that garden
since she had been taught to feel so deep an interest in the Divine
Being, whose presence had so frequently hallowed it, and who loved to
retire to the calmness of its peaceful shades, after the toils and
trials of the day were over. There had he conversed with his
highly-favoured disciples, and there had he passed hours in prayer
for them, and for all who should in after ages believe on Him through
their word. How precious was the remembrance of those prayers to the
heart of Naomi. She had already met with difficulties and
temptations in her Christian course, and she had reason to anticipate
still further trials and sufferings; yet she knew that she might
apply to herself the words of her Lord to Peter, "I have prayed for
thee, that thy faith fail not;" and trusting to his intercession, she
believed that strength would be given her to take up the cross, and
follow the Lamb whithersoever he should lead her.
Her reflections therefore on her future prospects were serious, but
not desponding; and they occupied her mind during the remainder of
the walk to Bethany so entirely that she took no part in the
conversation of Theophilus and Claudia. Their discourse naturally
turned from Gethsemane to the succeeding events in the sorrowful life
of the Redeemer; and when they reached the dwelling of Mary, the
interesting subject was unfinished.
"Mary," said Claudia, as she seated herself by the couch on which the
aged disciple rested, "we have been to the garden of Olives, where
you used to say you would lead me and Naomi, and tell us of the
latter days of Jesus of Nazareth. I fear your feeble limbs will
never again carry you to the holy spot; but will you not relate to us
now what you remember of the Redeemer's last visits to this house,
and all the sad events that closed his life?"
"My child," replied Mary, "it is now my happiness and my support to
dwell on those days; though when they were present, I believed that
the misery and woe which I endured would have broken my heart. My
soul, now that it is about to quit this earthly scene and appear
before its Maker, rests wholly on those sufferings of my Lord and
Saviour for the expiation of the sins that crowd on my memory, and
would press so heavily and so hopelessly on my conscience, had he not
borne their weight and endured their punishment. Not one word or
look of my blessed Master has escaped my memory. Oh, his countenance
was light, and his voice brought peace and joy to all who loved him
as I loved him! And yet I lived to hear that voice lifted up in
anguish, and to see that heavenly countenance grow cold in death! It
is to that last awful period that my own soul clings; but I will tell
you of the days of anxious grief that went before. It was on the
evening of the last sabbath before the Passover that Jesus came to
dwell beneath our roof. We did not know all that should befall him
ere the close of that great festival; but we saw that his disciples
were filled with grief and anxiety, and we heard from them of the sad
announcement which he had made of his approaching sufferings; and our
hearts were heavy. The Lord graciously accepted the invitation of
one of his disciples named Simon, who dwelt in Bethany, to sup in his
house, and it was the happy privilege of my sister and myself to wait
upon him."
"And it was on that occasion, dear mother," interrupted Naomi, "that
Judith has told me you anointed the feet of the Lord, and wiped them
with your hair, and that he so kindly received that mark of devotion,
and so remarkably commended it."
"Yes, my dear Naomi, it did please the gracious Redeemer to manifest
his approbation of so slight and unworthy a service, to teach his
followers, in all ages, that he will accept the humblest offering of
the meanest disciple, if brought to him in love and gratitude. He
who so soon afterwards threw aside the cloak of hypocrisy, and was
known as the traitor, reproved me for thus expending what might have
been sold for a large sum, and given to the poor; but the Lord
silenced him, and gave this melancholy sanction to what I had done:
'She is come aforehand to anoint my body to the burying.' Then we
knew that all our worst fears were well founded, and that our beloved
Master was indeed about to leave us; and then did every moment of his
presence become, if possible, doubly precious to us all. The
following day he remained with us here; and the report having reached
the city that he was abiding at Bethany, multitudes of Jews came out
to see him, and also to behold our brother who had been dead, and was
alive again. The approach of the Passover had necessarily brought
great numbers of Jews from distant places to keep the feast; and many
of these had never seen Jesus, though his fame was spread abroad over
all the land, and they had heard of the miracles which he had
wrought, and were eager to be convinced of the truth of the
resurrection of Lazarus. How rejoiced were we that our beloved
brother should thus become a convincing proof of the divinity of our
Lord and Master! And the time of his departure being now so near, he
no longer refused to be publicly acknowledged. The hour was coming
in which the Son of Man should be glorified; and the next day he sent
two of his disciples before him to Jerusalem, to bring him the ass on
which the prophet had foretold that he, the King of Zion, should
enter the city. Seated on that lowly animal, and surrounded by all
the inhabitants of Bethany, he descended the Mount of Olives. A vast
concourse of persons from Jerusalem met him as he proceeded, and
while they waved aloft the palm-branches which they had gathered, and
cast their garments on the road before him, they raised the exulting
cry, 'Hosanna! blessed is the King of Israel, that cometh in the name
of the Lord!' O my children, that was a glorious sight! In the
triumphant feelings of that moment we forgot the anxiety and fear
that had so heavily oppressed our hearts. But when we turned to look
on Him who was the object of all this enthusiastic feeling, we saw
that he took no part in the general rejoicing. His eyes were fixed
in sorrow and pity on the magnificent city towards which he was
approaching, and the measure of whose guilt he knew would so soon be
filled up. The shouts of the countless multitude were hushed, for
the King of Zion opened his lips to speak; and while tears of
compassion flowed from his eyes, he uttered that awful prediction,
which doubtless will ere long be terribly fulfilled. Never can those
words be forgotten:--'If thou hadst known, even thou, at least in
this thy day, the things which belong unto thy peace! but now they
are hid from thine eyes. For the days shall come upon thee, that
thine enemies shall cast a trench about thee, and compass thee round,
and keep thee on every side, and shall lay thee even with the ground,
and thy children within thee; and they shall not leave in thee one
stone upon another; because thou knewest not the time of thy
visitation.' My dear young friends," continued Mary, in a voice
trembling with emotion, "I shall not live to see those evil days, for
I feel that my departure is near at hand; but you may expect to
behold the vengeance of the Lord executed on the rebellious city,
which has been blessed and favoured above all other cities on the
earth. May you all be preserved from sharing her punishment, as, by
the mercy of your Redeemer, your souls have been snatched from her
guilt! Naomi, my beloved child in the Lord, I know your
determination to abide with your parents; and I believe that you are
acting according to the will of God. Therefore, come what may, I
know that you are safe in his hands; and that whether in sorrow or in
joy, in life or in death, his eye shall watch over you, and his hand
shall guide you, until at last he shall bring you to those heavenly
joys for which your ransomed spirit pants already."
Mary paused awhile, for her feelings were unchilled by age, and they
were too powerful for her strength. Theophilus begged her to
converse no more at that time, and promised that he would on the
following evening bring his young companions again, to hear the
remainder of her interesting recital; but she assured him that it was
her greatest delight to discourse with them of those events which
were so indelibly impressed on her own heart.
"How," she added, "can I better spend the small remains of time and
strength which I still receive from his mercy, than by telling of all
that he has done and suffered for my soul, and for the souls of those
who hear me; yea, even for the souls of the thoughtless and guilty
multitude, who refused to listen to the things that belonged to their
peace, and who so soon exchanged the hosannas and blessings with
which they hailed his entrance into their city, for menaces and cries
of 'Crucify him, crucify him!' Doubtless had the children of Zion by
faith beheld their King; had they repented in sack-cloth and ashes,
like the inhabitants of Nineveh at the preaching of Jonah, and wept
and prayed unto the Lord, even then the judgment might have been
reversed, and mercy have triumphed. But they hardened their hearts,
they killed the Holy One and the Just, and the city which saw his
death must see his vengeance. The day on which our Master made his
public entrance into Jerusalem, he passed much time in the temple,
preaching and teaching the people; and when eventide was come, he
again returned to our dwelling, accompanied by his twelve apostles.
"Again on the following morning he repaired to the temple, and to the
astonishment of the priests and elders, he drove out all those who
were profaning his Father's house by buying and selling within the
sacred courts. They were filled with indignation at his boldness,
and at the applauses of the multitude; and these ministers, appointed
for God's service, who should have led the people to the feet of
Jesus, to listen to his words, took counsel how they might slay him,
because many believed on him. But as yet they feared to take him,
for they saw that the multitude who constantly surrounded him would
rise up in his defence; and that night also he returned unmolested to
Bethany. It was not till the following evening that the traitor
Judas went to the chief priests, and offered to deliver up his master
into their hands; and the next day was the Passover. The treachery
of Judas, and the determination of the chief priests to put him to
death, must have been well known to the Lord; yet he openly went
again to the city, and eat the Passover with his twelve disciples,
not even excluding him who had already betrayed him. Then did he
institute that holy feast, which it is the happiness and privilege of
his disciples, in every age and every land, to celebrate in
remembrance of him. You, Theophilus and Naomi, have already been
permitted to partake of this memorial of your Saviour's dying love,
and our dear Claudia will soon enjoy the same privilege. May it ever
be your highest joy thus to declare yourselves his disciples; and may
you so eat his flesh and drink his blood that you may be partakers in
the salvation which by his death he purchased for you. When our
beloved Master left Bethany on the day of the Passover, we little
thought of the circumstances under which we should next behold him,
and that he would never again return to our house before his death.
But that very night the treacherous schemes of Judas were
accomplished. I have often repeated to you already, what I
afterwards heard from the blessed disciple John, of the gracious and
affecting discourse which he addressed to his chosen followers before
he left the room in which he had eaten his last supper; and how,
having sung a hymn with them, he repaired to the garden which you
have visited to-day, and passed hours in deep and mysterious agony,
such as we cannot comprehend. There, to a retired and favourite
spot, where Judas had often followed his Master, he now led the
soldiers who were commissioned to take him. No admiring multitude
now stood round him, to prevent the deed of sacrilege. The darkness
of night shrouded alike the divine sufferer and his malignant
enemies. The powers of evil were abroad, and were permitted in that
hour to bring to pass what had been decreed in the everlasting
counsels of Jehovah. Even the chosen disciples, the lion-hearted
Peter and the devoted John, were sunk in sleep, worn out with sorrow
and anxiety, and watched not with their sorrowing Lord, until he
roused them to meet the approaching foe. Oh! my heart burns when I
think of the insult which he then received from Judas. The traitor
met him with a kiss! And the Lord of heaven and earth, who could
have called down legions of angels to his defence, submitted to the
salutation, and suffered himself to be bound and led away
unresistingly, as a lamb to the slaughter. The rumour that he was
taken prisoner by the chief priests reached us at Bethany before
break of day; and in anguish not to be told, we hastened to the city.
We found that he had been led to Ananius first, and at the entrance
of his court we waited in trembling anxiety, until we beheld him
brought forth, not, as we hoped, to freedom, but only to be dragged
from thence to the palace of Caiaphas. John was permitted to follow
his Master into the palace, and my heart went with him, but we were
not allowed to enter. Soon the beloved disciple returned and took in
Peter also: but it had been well for him if he had not been admitted.
You all know how Satan overcame him, and how grievously he fell.
That fall has been a warning to us all; and may we be instructed by
it! But we will not dwell on the errors of that distinguished and
now glorified disciple. They were pardoned by his benign Master, and
are only recorded for our instruction."
"Was John standing by him when he uttered his denial?" asked Claudia.
"I think the affectionate heart of the disciple whom Jesus loved must
have been deeply wounded to hear such words from the mouth of his
companion."
"John had followed the Lord Jesus into the presence of the
high-priest, and did not therefore witness the cowardice of Peter.
But he who knew even the thoughts of their hearts, heard his name
denied three times; and it must have added to the sorrows that
already weighed so heavily on his soul. But pity was all he felt;
and he turned on Peter such a look as reached him in the distant
crowd, and told him at once of the grief and the forgiveness of his
Master. His repentance was instant and sincere, and with bitter
tears he mourned his guilt."
"Did you see Jesus again, Mary?" inquired Claudia. "I know that he
was at length condemned by our Roman governor; but where did that
take place?"
"Oh! my child, they led him from court to court, and from one judge
to another. They insulted and scourged him; they clothed him in
robes of mockery; and we saw him thus brought forth to the people by
Pilate, and heard him loudly proclaim that he found no fault in him.
Then we believed that he would be set free, and that his humiliation
was over. But Pilate's declaration of his innocence was received
with deafening cries of 'Crucify him, crucify him!' The chief
priests moved the people to demand his death, and their voices
prevailed over Pilate's own conviction that he had done no evil. A
murderer was released, according to the custom of the governor to set
one prisoner at liberty on that day, and Jesus was led away to be
crucified. Tearless, and almost stupified, my sister and I followed
in the crowd. We could not believe that what we had seen and heard
was true; but soon we beheld our own adored Master bending beneath
the weight of the cross on which he was to suffer. I cannot dwell on
what followed. You have all heard the particulars of that dread
hour, and all have learned to cast your souls at the foot of that
cross, and seek salvation there. Martha and I stood afar off; we
could not leave the spot, nor could we bring ourselves to approach
nearer to the scene of suffering. But the mother of the Lord stood
by, attended by three of her faithful friends, and the beloved
disciple supported her. She who had watched over his infancy, and
noted in her heart every manifestation of his divine nature--she who
had ever received from him the affection of a son, now stood beneath
his cross, and saw his dying agonies. Not even the horrors of that
hour could make him forget his mother; he looked down and blessed her
and with his dying breath committed her to the care of John."
"And he well discharged the trust," observed Theophilus. "My father
has often told me of his devoted attention to her while she lived.
He was indeed a son to her; and nothing which could soothe her spirit
or promote her comfort was neglected by John. With what impatient
delight do I look forward to seeing that blessed man at Ephesus! He
will repeat to me again and again all that you have told me so often,
Mary; and by God's help I shall learn from him yet more and more to
love my risen Lord. Oh, if I had lived while Jesus was on earth, I
feel as if my love for him would have emulated that of John! He is
indeed blessed beyond all the other sons of men; for he is that
disciple who was eminently beloved. He was privileged to hold such
intimate communion with him as we can never know."
"True, my son," replied Mary, "the Lord will return no more to earth
as a man of sorrows, and deign to accept the sympathy and the humble
services of his disciples. But your eyes, Theophilus, shall wake to
see him come in glory; and if your faith and love hold on steadfast
unto the end, you shall meet him as a friend, and enjoy such proofs
of his favour as shall far surpass all that were ever bestowed even
on John."
"But tell me," interrupted Claudia, "what did you see and hear of the
fearful prodigies that attended the death of Messiah? I love to hear
the recital from you, who were an eye-witness of all the awful events
which declared him to be indeed the Son of God. My father once
mentioned with contempt the centurion, who at that moment confessed
his divinity; but he knew not the truth of all that then occurred to
force conviction on the heart of the Roman soldier. It is my warmest
prayer that one day I may hear him also exclaim, 'Truly this was the
Son of God!'"
"May the Lord grant it!" replied Mary. "No soul that was not blinded
by the devices of Satan could have witnessed what that centurion saw
and not have believed. An awful darkness had covered the land for
three hours, and then, when all had been accomplished--when pardon
had been pronounced on the expiring thief--when an asylum had been
provided for his heart-broken mother--and when everything had been
fulfilled, even to the letter, that had been prophesied concerning
him--the Lord proclaimed in a loud voice, 'It is finished!' Heaven
and earth heard the cry, and man's redemption was complete. Then he
said, 'Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit;'--and bowing his
head in death, his divine spirit left the house of clay in which it
had so long sojourned and suffered. Then did the powers of nature
give evidence to the awful importance of the work that was finished.
The earth quaked to its foundations, the rocks were rent asunder, and
the graves burst open. And more ominous still, the veil of the
temple was rent asunder, and the priests who were waiting there
rushed forth in terror, to declare the wonderful event. The hearts
of the multitude, who had come together as to a spectacle, were
stricken with awe. They smote their breasts, and returned in wonder
to their homes. But we who knew and loved him best, yet tarried to
watch his corpse. We knew that all life was fled, for we had seen
his body pierced by the spear of one of the soldiers; but we could
not leave his sacred form to be the object of their insults. We had
not power or influence sufficient to obtain permission to bury it;
but Joseph of Arimathea, who believed in him, and feared not to
acknowledge his faith, even at that time of danger and distrust, went
boldly to the Roman governor, and having requested the body of Jesus,
it was delivered to him for interment. It was the weakness of our
faith which led us to be so anxious about the burying of our Lord's
body; for had we believed all that he himself had said concerning his
rising again the third day, we should have known that all our cares
and precautions for its preservation was needless. But as yet we
knew not the Scriptures nor the power of God and when the Lord was
laid in the sepulchre of Joseph, we saw a great stone laid against
the door, and departed with the melancholy satisfaction of knowing
that all due respect had been paid to his honoured remains."
"But how wonderfully," observed Naomi, "was this very circumstance
made to show forth the truth of God's word! The Jews even now say
that his disciples came by night and took him away; and such is my
father's reply, when I speak of his miraculous resurrection. But he
cannot deny the security of the sepulchre. He acknowledges that the
stone was sealed, and a watch was set by the chief priests. Surely
then their own precautions prove the falsity of what they say."
"Yes, my child," continued Mary, "the malice of these wicked men was
overruled by God, to accomplish what he had desired; and their
jealous prudence was the means of proving that he did not suffer his
Holy One to see corruption. While we, his weak and sorrowing
disciples, were mourning his death with bitter tears, and hiding our
grief in solitude, for fear of the vengeance of the priests, the Lord
was preparing for us such joy and triumph as our desponding hearts
could not conceive. What words can tell the feelings which
over-powered us when first we heard the glorious news, 'He is risen!'
And oh! when at length we saw him, when our eyes were blessed with
the sight of his heavenly countenance, and we heard again that voice
of mercy and of love, truly could we then have taken up the words of
the aged Simeon, and said, 'Lord, now are we ready to depart in
peace, for our eyes have seen thy salvation!' We knew that our
redemption was accomplished and accepted; we knew that henceforth
whosoever believed in Jesus should inherit eternal life. All our
doubts and fears were gone, and peace and joy for ever established in
our souls. The Lord did not tarry long with us, but ascended to his
Father. There does he watch over his church, and sympathise in all
the trials and temptations of his children; and there do they join
him and behold his glory, as one by one the hand of death comes to
set them free from this earthly tabernacle, and open to them an
entrance into the mansions of everlasting bliss. Oh! my dear
children, my spirit longs to take its flight, and soon, I feel, will
the summons come."
Mary closed her eyes and sank back on her couch, greatly exhausted by
the effort she had made. She had hoped that the account of all that
she herself had heard and seen might make a deep impression on the
heart of Claudia, and she was not disappointed; but her strength was
almost unequal to the exertion of so long a discourse on subjects so
profoundly interesting to her, and for a few minutes she lay silent
and motionless, while in her spirit she fervently prayed. Her young
friends and her faithful attendant Hannah, who had listened to the
conversation with deep attention, stood round her in silence, until
she had somewhat recovered her strength, when she raised herself, and
again addressed them, but in a weak and faltering voice--
"The evening is closing in, my children, and you have already tarried
too long with me. I will detain you no more: but if we meet again in
this world, I will tell you yet many things that will touch your
hearts with love to your Redeemer, and furnish you with blessed
subjects for reflection when youth and health are gone, and you are,
like me, laid on the bed of death. Let me bless you before you
depart."
The three young disciples knelt beside the couch of the dying saint,
and with tears received her blessing. They then rose, and embracing
her affectionately, left the house and hastened towards the city.
The sun was sinking behind the hill of Zion as they began to descend
the Mount of Olives, and the short twilight had faded away before
they reached the valley of Kedron, and entered the gardens that
bordered the murmuring brook.
Their spirits were oppressed with awe and sadness, for the solemn
interest of Mary's discourse had deeply impressed them, and her
parting address had filled them with sorrow. They felt assured that
their beloved friend was leaving them; and though it would be to her
a transition from a world of care to a world of joy unutterable and
full of glory, yet they could not think of losing her without
emotion. They proceeded almost in silence, until, as they were
passing by the verge of a thick grove of olive-trees, Claudia pressed
the arm of Theophilus, and hastily whispered:
"Listen, Theophilus: some one is surely watching us. I have heard
footsteps behind us several times; but I saw nothing, and I feared
you would chide me for cowardice if I spoke my fears. But now I am
sure we are followed. I saw the figure of a man folded in a dark
garment pass stealthily beneath those trees."
"Why should you fear, my Claudia?" replied Theophilus. "No one can
harm us here. See, the gates are in sight, and I can perceive the
dim forms of the watch-men moving slowly along the walls. We are
within reach of help, and I am armed, so do not tremble."
"I do not fear for myself, Theophilus, but for you and Naomi. If
Javan knew of our visits to Bethany--if Javan knew that his sister
and his cousin were disciples of Jesus--oh, I believe no ties of
blood would prevent him from denouncing you to the tyrants who make
religion a mask for cruelty and murder."
"Silence, dear Claudia," said Naomi in a low whisper; "your eagerness
makes you forget that you are perhaps within hearing of the person
whom you think you saw lurking so near. Let us proceed quickly. I
cannot share your fears, but I dread my father's inquiries as to the
cause of our long absence."
A short time sufficed to bring them to the threshold of Zadok's
house, where Deborah met them with a countenance of alarm and anxiety.
"Why are you so late, my children?" she exclaimed. "I have been
watching from the housetop in great uneasiness, until it became so
dark that I could no longer distinguish the road up the Mount of
Olives. Javan came in soon after you left the house, and asked
eagerly in what direction you had walked out. My fears told me that
you were gone to Bethany; but I concealed my suspicions, and tried to
persuade your brother that you were gone by Solomon's pool, towards
the valley of Hinnom. He looked stern and angry, and without
replying hurried from the house."
"Then," cried Claudia, "my fears were not unfounded, and it was Javan
himself who followed us. Something in the figure of the person I saw
reminded me of him; and yet I tried to believe it could not be.
Gracious Heaven! preserve us from his vengeance!"
Both Theophilus and Naomi were greatly alarmed at what Deborah had
communicated, for they had lately heard Javan express himself with so
much bitter hatred towards the Nazarenes that they felt convinced he
would use all his influence for the persecution and destruction of
any who bore the name; and they feared that even those who were of
his near kindred would be sacrificed to his zeal and fanaticism.
Claudia entreated Theophilus to leave them instantly, that Javan
might not return and find them together; and also that he might
repair to his father's apartments and inform him of what had
occurred. He complied with her wishes, and was passing across the
vestibule, towards the gallery that led to the suite of rooms
occupied exclusively by his parents, when Javan entered, and in a
voice of assumed kindness called to him to return.
"Come, Theophilus," he said, "I have seen but little of you lately,
my time has been so much engaged. I have to thank you for so well
supplying my place, and giving a brother's protection to Naomi in her
evening rambles. Let us go altogether to the terrace, and join my
father and mother, and you can entertain us with an account of your
lengthened excursion, for you have been absent so long that you must
doubtless have wandered far beyond the pool of Solomon."
There was an ill-suppressed tone of irony in what Javan said, that
was but too well understood by those to whom it was addressed.
Claudia turned deadly pale, and even Naomi felt that she had need of
all her resolution to enable her to follow her brother. Theophilus
calmly turned, and with an air of perfect composure joined his
cousin, saying,--
"Yes, I believe an account of what we have heard and seen this
evening will interest you all; and I claim to narrate it myself.
Naomi and Claudia, you are not to interrupt me."
He accompanied this injunction with a warning look, which told the
two maidens that he had some plan which he feared they might impede.
The terrace they found unoccupied, and Javan left his companions
there while he sought his parents. Theophilus immediately seized the
opportunity to inform Naomi and Claudia that he plainly saw that
Javan had discovered the object of their walk, and that his
suspicions were excited.
"But," he added, "I believe I can baffle his inquiries, and ensure
your safety, provided you both promise to be silent, and leave the
explanation to me. You know that I will say nothing but what is true
and right."
"Oh yes," said Claudia, "I will leave it all to you; and though Naomi
does love to speak for herself, she must agree to do the same. I
never wish, for my own part, to have anything to say to your fierce
cousin."
"Claudia," replied Naomi, "you think too ill of my brother. His
temper is warm, and his zeal sometimes makes him appear vindictive;
but he has an affectionate heart; and to me he has shown much
kindness since his return. Let us not anticipate evil, for perhaps
we are even mistaken in supposing that he suspects our visits to
Bethany, or at all events that he is aware of their object. I will
get my harp, and sing to him some of his favourite hymns. In former
days I could always drive away the evil spirit from his soul by my
music, and now I hope it has not lost its charm. Do not say anything
rash, Theophilus, and I will promise not to interfere with your
schemes."
Naomi spoke more cheerfully than she felt, for she saw that Claudia
was trembling with apprehension, and that Theophilus had evidently
resolved on some measure of importance.
[Illustration: Group of Cattle]