Theophilus sat lonely and sad in his gloomy cell. Death had not had
power to shake his steadfast soul, but the fear that his beloved
Claudia was not rooted and grounded in the faith had filled him with
sorrow. He now doubly deplored his unhappy fate, which would so soon
remove him from her, and leave her perhaps a prey to doubts and
repinings. Had he been permitted to remain with her, he felt sure he
could have brought her to a better and a more enduring state of mind.
But, alas! what is the value of a faith that will not stand the test
of trials and afflictions? If Claudia professed to be a follower of
the Lord Jesus, because the story of his life and death interested
her feelings and touched her heart; and believed she was his disciple
because those she loved and esteemed were his devoted servants, would
such a faith save her? Theophilus was now sorrowful indeed, and his
resource was in prayer. He prayed for Claudia, that the Lord would
bring her to himself in sincerity and truth, though it might be with
many afflictions. And while he was thus engaged, and deeply absorbed
in his own melancholy yet pious and confiding thoughts, a light shone
into his dark cell through the iron grating in the door, and a noise
was heard of footsteps approaching. The bolts and locks of the heavy
door were unfastened, and to his inexpressible surprise and delight
he beheld Naomi enter. The door was immediately closed, and she
approached him. The greeting of the cousins was silent and very
sorrowful; for all those feelings, which they had each hitherto to
repress, were called forth at the sight of each other, and the
remembrance of all that had occurred since the sad night when they
stood together at the deathbed of Mary at Bethany. When they had
recovered their composure Theophilus eagerly inquired about his
parents and Claudia, and listened with deep interest to the recital
of all their grief and all their faith and resignation. Still
greater was the interest and the satisfaction which he felt at
hearing of poor Claudia's penitence, and the sorrow which her error
had occasioned her; and most grateful was he that his worst
apprehensions were thus removed, and that he could leave the world in
joyful confidence that she would follow him in the path of true
religion, and join him in a better world, as one of those who have
"washed their robes, and made them white in the blood of the Lamb."
"Oh that I could once more have seen her!" he exclaimed, "that I
might have told her how truly I pardon her for the pain which her
well-meant but most mistaken effort to preserve my life has cost me.
But as that cannot be, tell her, dear Naomi, that all is forgotten;
and that the deep remorse she has felt for her temporary
unfaithfulness to her Saviour, proves to me that she will never again
forsake his fold or deny his name. She has experienced the bitter
consequences of allowing any earthly object to interfere with her
entire devotion to Him; and I pray that His grace may never again be
taken from her, but keep her steadfast unto the end, even if she
should be called to follow me by the same dark and dreadful road
which I must so soon traverse."
"I do not fear for her resolution and her perseverance for the
future, Theophilus. It is not personal suffering that would have
driven her to forget her Lord and Master, and act as she has done
this day. It was her fear for you that clouded her reason, and
silenced the voice of conscience. To save your life seemed to her
the first object; and, alas! she forgot that if she succeeded in
tempting you to comply with the blasphemous conditions of your cruel
judges, the life thus purchased would be embittered for ever, both to
herself and you. Her eyes are opened now; and she sees and feels
that it is better to lose you here, and meet you again in that
blessed world where you will soon be united to the company of
apostles and saints and martyrs. But, poor girl, it is a severe
trial for one so young, and whose feelings are so strong as hers.
May the Lord be her strength and her consolation!"
"Naomi," said Theophilus, "I love to hear you talk of her; but you
must forbear, lest you make life too precious to me. Pray with me,
dear cousin, and help me thus to regain the calmness and the courage
which I felt until poor Claudia's letter came to disturb my soul, and
revive the struggle between the flesh and the spirit. Your ardent
piety and perfect trust in God have often been my example and my
comfort in other days, less sorrowful than this, and now you are come
as an angel to bring peace to my troubled heart. Let us kneel
together."
Naomi with great difficulty commanded her emotion, and complied with
the request of Theophilus. They prayed to that Father who is never
slow to hear and answer the supplications of his children; and when
they rose from their knees it was with feelings of entire
resignation, and almost of joy. Their discourse was soon interrupted
by the entrance of the keeper of the prison, who desired Naomi to
accompany him immediately, as the gates were about to be closed. A
few parting words were all that could be uttered; and Naomi followed
her guide through the long and gloomy passages that led to the
entrance of the prison, while the tears which she had struggled to
repress while in the presence of her cousin, now flowed unchecked.
Her admiration of his faith and his humility, his tender regard for
the feelings of his friends, and his heroic resolution to bear the
cross which was laid upon him, only made her regret still more deeply
that he should be thus cut off in the flower of his days, and taken
away from those who loved him so dearly, and to whom his life was in
every way so valuable. It was one of those mysterious dispensations
of an All-wise Providence which our understandings cannot fathom, and
in which it becomes us in humble faith to say with the Psalmist, "I
was dumb, I opened not my mouth, for it was thy doing."
Zadok had accompanied his daughter to the prison, and with several of
his attendants he now waited for her in the porch. The state of the
city was not such as to admit of any person traversing the streets
alone and unprotected, after the shades of night had spread a veil
over the sin and violence that continually defiled that once holy
place; and Zadok also felt a vague apprehension that the same persons
who had so successfully conspired against Theophilus, might also seek
to rob him of his beloved child. He therefore had watched and
guarded her with redoubled care ever since her conversion to
Christianity had become more generally known; and both he and Salome
lived in constant dread of a calamity which they felt would be the
death-blow to all their earthly happiness.
Naomi leaned on her father's arm, and they slowly descended the steep
and narrow street that led from the eminence on which the prison
stood. From that situation they had an extended view of the lower
city, now clearly visible in the moonlight, and looking so calm and
so beautiful, that it was difficult to believe how much of vice and
misery and crime was lurking amid the silent streets beneath them.
The sight of a vast assemblage of human habitations without the
sounds of human life has always something in it that is melancholy,
and Naomi especially felt it so on this occasion, when her own
spirits depressed and exhausted by the effort which she had made to
sustain them during her trying interview with Theophilus. The city
of Zion seemed sunk in sleep; and she thought with sadness how
profoundly her inhabitants were also buried in the sleep of sin and
false security, and how, by their impiety and hardness of heart, and
by the oppression and murder of the innocent they were daily filling
up the measure of their guilt, and provoking their long-suffering God
to bring upon them the fierceness of his threatened wrath. Her
father did not interrupt her reflections, for he sympathised in her
feelings at parting with Theophilus; and his own mind was occupied
with sad thoughts also, though they differed greatly from those of
his daughter, and were unmixed with the holy consolations and
triumphant hopes that cheered her while she contemplated her cousin's
approaching fate.
The silence was broken suddenly and fearfully. The wild deep voice
of the son of Ananus made Naomi start, and a sensation of terror ran
through her frame as she saw his unearthly form approaching with his
usual rapid strides, and heard his yet more unearthly cry, "Woe, woe
to the city! woe to Jerusalem!"
She shrunk back, and would have drawn her father into the shade of a
deep archway by which they were passing; but the mysterious prophet
had fixed his glaring eye upon them, and came directly towards the
spot where they stood.
"Woe to thee, Zadok, thou son of Aaron!" he cried. "Woe to all thine
house! and woe to thee also gentle maid of Zion. Thy star shall
set--but it shall rise again." He turned away, and would have passed
on, but Zadok caught him by his loose and tattered garment, and
addressed him in a voice of kindness:
"Come home with me, thou son of Ananus; and let me give thee clothes
and food. You utter unceasing woes against our city and our
families; but I will return thy curses with blessings, for it pains
my heart to behold a fellow creature so desolate and so miserable.
Hunger and fatigue have made you mad. Come home with me, and cease
to terrify the women and children, and scare away their sleep by
night with such doleful sounds."
The prophet looked at Zadok, and his haggard countenance relaxed from
its usual severity and abstraction; but it was pity for him who
offered him kindness and shelter that made him pause, and not a
thought of relaxing his almost miraculous exertions, or giving repose
to his worn-out frame.
"Seek not to detain me," he exclaimed; "I have yet more woes to
proclaim. I must tell it in the ears of every inhabitant of Zion
that woe is coming! I see the gathering clouds--I hear the distant
thunders of Jehovah's wrath--and I must forewarn my countrymen of the
coming storm. Save yourselves, oh ye that be wise! But it is too
late--the decree is gone forth! I hear it now--A voice from the
east! A voice from the west! A voice from the four winds--crying,
Woe, woe, to Jerusalem!"
He broke from Zadok's grasp with the unnatural strength of a maniac,
and wildly fled up the street till he reached the prison walls, when
again he took up his fearful note, and woke the inmates of the gloomy
pile from their temporary forgetfulness of care and sorrow. This
encounter did not cheer the spirits of Naomi: she remembered the
denunciations which the son of Ananus had addressed so pointedly to
Claudia, and felt how the woes which he had prophesied had been
fulfilled; and she could not banish from her mind the impression that
further sorrows were hanging over her father and her family. Claudia
was anxiously waiting to receive her on her return, and with Amaziah
and Judith she was cheered, though deeply affected, at the account of
Theophilus's peace and resignation. His message of forgiveness and
love to poor Claudia awoke all her sorrow, though it relieved her
heart of a heavy burden, and animated her to resolutions of future
devotion to the cause for which Theophilus was about to resign his
life.
The morning dawned, and found the anxious party still assembled
together and still conversing on the same deeply interesting subject.
The final appearance of the prisoner before his hard-hearted judges
was to take place at noon; and long before that hour Amaziah left the
house, telling Judith that he was going to make the last effort for
the preservation of their son, but warning her to cherish no hopes of
his success. Zadok also went forth with Javan and Isaac, to be
present at the meeting of the council, which was to be held in a
large hall adjoining the prison; and Mary once more declared to her
affianced husband, privately and solemnly, that if he did not return
to announce the acquittal of Theophilus, she would never see him
more. She had lately begun to doubt the sincerity of his affection,
and she resolved that he should give her this proof of his devotion
to her wishes, or lose the prize he so eagerly coveted.
The council assembled, and having gone through the preliminary forms
which they had themselves instituted, the president commanded the
Nazarene prisoner to be brought forth. Zadok almost regretted that
he had entered the hall when he saw his noble and undaunted kinsman
appear, for his feelings of pity and admiration were painfully
excited; and he knew that it was all in vain to raise his single
voice in his favour. Isaac demanded of the prisoner whether the
mercy of the court in allowing him time for repentance had been
effectual: and whether he was now prepared to abjure his errors, and
publicly to acknowledge that Jesus of Nazareth was an impostor, who
had suffered the due reward of his crimes and seditions.
A holy indignation sparkled in the eyes of Theophilus at this
blasphemous question. He paused a moment to subdue his rising
spirit; and then, with a calmness and dignity that impressed even his
enemies who thirsted for his blood, he replied:--
"Isaac, may God forgive you and your accomplices in this day's guilt,
for the insult you have dared to utter. By his grace I declare that
Jesus of Nazareth is the Son of the Most High God, the expected
Messiah, and the Saviour of the world. His death was the sacrifice
appointed by his Father before the foundation of the world, to
expiate the sins of all mankind: and it was brought about by the
pride, cruelty, and unbelief of the Jews, who with wicked hands did
crucify and slay him. I have given myself to Him who died for me, to
be saved and pardoned and glorified by his grace; and shall death
affright me from him? Oh no; his love is present with me now, and
dearer is that love to me than all this world can offer!"
"Is this your final declaration, Theophilus?" asked Javan, with a
look of great anxiety: "are you so resolved to perish both in body
and soul, and to be cut off eternally from the portion of Israel?"
"O Javan!" replied the prisoner, "I will say to you, are you still
thus hardened against the truth, and determined to despise the
salvation of the Lord? The drowning man, who has grasped a powerful
arm to save him from destruction, does not wantonly abandon his hope;
and I have found an Almighty arm, to which I cling for salvation from
my sins, and from their eternal punishment. Shall I idly loose my
hold, and fall back into the billows and deep waters out of which I
have been rescued? No, Javan, no! heaven is before me and I will not
look back. The final step is fearful to flesh and blood; but His rod
and His staff shall comfort me. All the favour that I now crave at
your hands is, that I may be disturbed no more by questions or
arguments, but left alone with my God and Saviour, until ye come to
liberate my soul, and send it forth to meet Him in a purer state.
From my heart I forgive you all; and my farewell to you is a prayer,
that when you come to face death as nearly as I now do, you may have
found the same all-powerful and all-merciful Guide who now leads me
on, and gives me strength and victory."
A murmur ran round the court, and some voices were heard expressing
pity and admiration for the young and ardent prisoner. Zadok boldly
pleaded for his release, and Isaac leaned strongly to the side of
mercy; but they could urge nothing to change the stern decree of the
council, that every convicted follower of Jesus should be put to
death. The very eloquence and bold confession of Theophilus only
spoke his own condemnation, and proved how dangerous and zealous a
disciple of the Nazarene they had it in their power to destroy.
A division took place, and loud and angry words were heard, while
Theophilus looked calmly on, for he saw that his fate was decided.
Suddenly the doors of the hall were thrown open with violence, and
Amaziah appeared at the head of a numerous and well-armed band: he
looked eagerly round the apartment, and instantly broke through every
obstacle, and springing to the spot where his beloved son was
standing, caught him in his arms, crying, "I will save you or die, my
son!"
The tumult became general, for Isaac, without openly joining the
party of Amaziah, used every effort to increase the confusion, and
give him a better chance of success. Zadok forgot his priestly
character, and all his former prejudices against the Nazarenes, in
the hope of rescuing his nephew; and he with his arm and his voice
encouraged those who surrounded and defended him. It was a moment of
intense feeling for Theophilus; all the ties of nature and affection
resumed their hold on his heart, and hope once more revived that life
and liberty might be granted.
Before Javan left his home that morning, one of Mary's servants had
requested to speak with him in private. It was Reuben, the same who
had revealed to Isaac the conversation which he had overheard in the
garden between Naomi and Claudia, and which had led to much sin and
sorrow, he had now come on a similar errand of treachery, to betray
to Javan the plans that were in agitation for the rescue of his
cousin: he told him that Isaac had conferred with Amaziah several
days ago, and had promised to befriend his son in every way that was
consistent with his own character, though he found it hopeless to
persuade his coadjutors to pronounce hie pardon. Trusting to his
promises, which were secured by self-interest, Amaziah eagerly
concerted with him a scheme, which appeared to give the only chance
of saving Theophilus, though at the same time it involved
considerable danger to his father. Several of his friends were
induced to lend their aid; and though fear for their own safety
prevented their joining in the enterprise, yet they placed their
domestics and armed retainers at the disposal of Amaziah, and he
entered the hall with a force quite sufficient to effect his purpose.
But treason had counteracted all his plans. Javan had taken
advantage of the information which Reuben had deceitfully obtained,
and had placed a strong body of troops in ambush among the walls of
the prison, ready to rush in and attack Amaziah and his followers in
the rear. Reuben was at hand to summon them, and when Javan saw that
all his uncle's men had entered the hall, he made a sign to him, and
in a few moments the troops were at the door. Their numbers were
greatly superior to those of Amaziah's party, and the contest was
soon ended. The prisoner was secured, and borne away again by a
private entrance to his dungeon, before his distracted father was
aware that all hope was gone. His indignation and grief then broke
forth with violence, and he reproached the council with their
injustice and cruelty, in language that was not likely to pass
unnoticed or unrevenged. Zadok feared for his brother's safety; and
as nothing further could now be hoped for the unfortunate Theophilus,
he led, or rather forced him from the hall, while the exasperated
members of the council regarded him with looks of rage, which they
were only deterred from openly demonstrating by respect for Zadok,
and fear of offending Javan. When the brothers had left the hall,
followed by all the band who had accompanied Amaziah, Isaac desired
that the business of the day might be resumed, and that the rest of
the Nazarene prisoners (whose fate had been delayed until Theophilus
could be added to their number) might be brought up for final
condemnation. The President had been astonished at the sudden and
unexpected appearance of the troops, whose services Javan had so
promptly obtained, and having also observed the dark countenance of
Reuben among the servants who kept the door, he began to suspect that
the enterprise of Amaziah had been betrayed, and that his own share
in it might also be known by his brethren in the council. Such a
discovery would infallibly destroy all his political power, and
deprive him of the confidence and esteem of Javan, which was founded
on his character for religious zeal and firmness of purpose. To
obviate all injurious impressions which might have been made by the
reports of Reuben, he now resolved to show a determined severity
towards the ill-fated prisoners who were to hear their condemnation
from his lips; and rather to risk the loss of Mary's favour than
subject himself to the suspicion of being a friend to Theophilus, or
any convicted Nazarene.
The entrances to the prison and the hall were carefully closed and
guarded before the prisoners were summoned, to prevent the
possibility of a rescue being again attempted; and the officers and
keepers of the prison soon appeared leading the unoffending victims,
bound with chains and fetters. They were eight in number, besides
Theophilus, of different ages, both male and female,--some in the
bloom of youth and some bowed down with age and infirmity and
suffering, but all inspired with one feeling and strengthened by one
hope. They had already declared their firm and unalterable belief in
the divinity of Jesus of Nazareth, and no further examination now
took place, except a formal offer of pardon if they would renounce
this belief, which was decidedly rejected by each in turn. The
sentence of death was pronounced by Isaac; and the prisoners were
informed that no delay would be allowed, and that they must prepare
for execution at the dawn of day on the morrow. They were condemned
to be beheaded in prison; and at the suggestion of Javan a clause was
added that their bodies should be exposed on the walls of the
building, and then carried to the valley of Hinnom, and burnt in the
fires which were kept constantly burning there to consume the filth
and rubbish of the city.
This appeared a wanton indignity; but Javan urged that it was
necessary, in order to prevent the friends of the criminals obtaining
possession of their carcasses and performing their idolatrous rites
at their burial. A shudder of disgust and dread might have been
perceived to run through the line of prisoners as they heard their
hasty doom announced, and thought of the loathsome place to which
their bodies would so soon be consigned; but they spoke not to plead
for a reversal of this cruel decree. They knew that their fate was
decided, and they did not wish their crown of martyrdom to be
delayed, or to be kept longer from the place of their rest.
Theophilus turned his calm and steadfast eye on Javan when he heard
him propose that one of his own kinsmen should be treated with an
indignity which would not have been offered to the meanest Jewish
beggar; and he met the gaze of his cousin fixed on him with an
expression of concern and interest that only surprised him the more.
Javan had attained the object for which he had been labouring and
intriguing so long; and now that Theophilus was in his power, he
almost regretted that his principles compelled him to complete his
revenge. He hastily desired that the prisoners might be removed, and
all placed in separate cells. No sooner was this order obeyed, than
the fierceness of his countenance returned; and rising from his seat
he began to denounce Isaac as a traitor to his religion and his
party, and proceeded to state all the particulars which he had heard
from Reuben of his double-dealing and his conspiracy with Amaziah for
the rescue of an accursed apostate. Javan spoke with violence, as if
to work up his own feelings of anger against Theophilus and all who
wished to save his life; and he succeeded in exciting those of his
colleagues. Isaac would have denied the charge brought against him;
but Javan compelled his informer unwillingly to appear and swear to
the truth of his statement, when he detailed so minutely the
conversation which he had overheard between Amaziah and the
President, and also the orders which he had himself received from
Isaac to procure the services of some men on whom he could depend,
and conduct them to Amaziah on the appointed morning, that no doubt
remained of his guilt. He saw that his reputation and influence were
gone, and after a sharp altercation with Javan, he left his seat and
hurried from the hall. A short time he was shut up in a private room
in his own house, while his servants guarded the door, and then he
delivered a letter to his most confidential attendant, and gave
orders for the removal of all his valuable goods to a place of
security which he pointed out. This done, he armed himself
completely, and, followed by such of his domestics as had consented
to accompany him, he left the house, and pursued the most obscure and
unfrequented paths that led to the temple. In this holy edifice the
Zealots and Idumeans were still established and fortified, and at the
outer gate he presented himself, and demanded to speak with John of
Gischala, the valiant leader of the party.
He was speedily admitted to the presence of the wily John, but his
attendants were detained in an outer court until the will of the
chief should be made known. Isaac's story was listened to with great
satisfaction by John; and his offers of alliance were gladly
received, for he was known to be a man of power and abilities, and
his desertion of the popular party, as it was then called, was an
event of considerable importance. The bitterness with which he spoke
of his former friends was a guarantee to John that an impassable gulf
had now separated them, and his quick discernment enabled him to
discover and profit by the irritated feelings of his new ally. He
had brought with him all the portable wealth which he possessed, and
which was very considerable; so that in all respects he was a most
welcome ally.
His desertion to the opposing party was soon known to Javan and his
colleagues, and they immediately pronounced him a traitor, and
confiscated his house and property to the use of the state--as they
styled their own self-constituted authority--but they found little of
value remaining in the building. The servants had removed everything
that they could carry, not to place it in security for their master,
but to appropriate to their own use; and the house was left desolate
and empty. The letter which Isaac had entrusted to his favourite
domestic was faithfully delivered to Mary, his affianced bride, but
it failed to produce the effect which he had designed. It contained
a vehement entreaty that she would follow him to the temple, and in
that sacred place unite herself to him for ever. He urged that his
love for her, and desire to comply with her wishes, had been the sole
cause of his present distress; but that if she would keep her
plighted faith and join him with all her riches, he doubted not they
could find means to escape together from Jerusalem, and enjoy wealth
and happiness in some more favoured clime.
Mary of Bethezob had agreed to unite herself to Isaac when he was in
power and a high station, but she had no regard for him that was
strong enough to tempt her to take such a step as he proposed. She
replied to his letter with a decided rejection of all his plans, and
a declaration that she should adhere to her resolution of seeing him
no more, since he had failed to procure the liberty of Theophilus.
Her letter was delivered to his servant, who immediately followed his
master to the temple, and attached himself to the party which he had
espoused. Javan's indignation at the conduct of Isaac was very
great: he had placed considerable confidence in him; and had revealed
to him many particulars of his secret intercourse with Simon, and his
intentions of inviting him into the city as soon as he could
sufficiently prepare the way for his reception by the popular party.
All these designs he knew would now be disclosed to his bitter enemy,
John of Gischala, who might, by his craft or his power, be enabled to
frustrate them; and he resolved to hasten their execution as much as
possible, that he might bring Simon and his forces within the walls
of the city before the wily and intriguing John could have time to
concert any plans of opposition. But he wished that Amaziah should
depart from Jerusalem before the son of Gioras was raised to the
sovereign command. His bigotry and his revenge were sated by the
capture and condemnation of Theophilus; and the conduct of his cousin
had convinced him that threats and sufferings were ineffectual to
make the Nazarenes forsake their opinions. He did not therefore wish
to apprehend his uncle, and have to witness the same exhibition of
fortitude and faith which had excited his admiration in Theophilus,
and the same grief and horror which his exertions for the honour of
Judaism had already caused to his parents and relatives. What a
strange mixture of good and evil was Javan! and how entirely did his
narrow and prejudiced views of religion mar his own happiness, and
extinguish all the better feelings and more noble propensities of his
heart!
Zadok and his unhappy brother had returned to their home, after the
fruitless effort for the preservation of the prisoner. A crowd of
persons were assembled round the door of the prison, and the cause of
the disturbance which was heard within the walls soon reached them,
and excited a great feeling of indignation against Amaziah. The
Nazarenes were held in entire abhorrence by the populace; and the
rumour that an attempt had been made to rescue a convicted heretic
and others, to deprive them of the savage joy with which they always
hailed the execution of such victims, filled them with rage. But
when they beheld Amaziah come forth from the porch leaning on the arm
of the holy and respected Zadok, the tide of feeling was divided.
Some of those who knew and esteemed the character of the afflicted
father, were touched by his profound but manly grief; while others
loudly assailed him with insulting epithets, as the father of an
apostate, and even as being suspected of sharing the guilt of his
son. The presence and protection of Zadok, and the commanding manner
in which by his voice and gestures he forbade the approach of the
angry multitude, were hardly sufficient to prevent their rushing on
Amaziah, and inflicting summary vengeance on this unoffending and
almost broken-hearted man But those who pitied his sorrow united with
his own attendants and followers, and formed a strong guard around
the noble brothers, and in this manner conducted them safely to their
own dwelling, amidst the cries and insults and curses of the
infuriated mob.
The anxious inmates of Zadok's house, who sat trembling and weeping
while expecting the return of their relatives from the trial, were
startled by the shouts of the approaching multitude; and for a moment
their hopes were excited that these might be cries of joy and
triumph, to announce the acquittal of the prisoner. But as the crowd
came nearer, they heard the curses and blasphemies that were uttered
in a loud and threatening tone; and while they felt that no hope
remained of Theophilus being free, they also feared for the safety of
those who were equally dear to them. They hastened to the housetop,
from whence they could look down on the street below, and they were
terrified at the tumult they beheld, and at the danger which seemed
to menace both Amaziah and Zadok; for the priest himself had become
an object of temporary wrath, from his connexion with the denounced
and hated Nazarenes, and his determined efforts to protect his
brother.
Salome and her companions watched the still increasing crowd, until
the objects of their anxiety had reached the strong gates that gave
entrance into the court of the house; and when they were assured that
they had passed through, and were safe from the assaults of their
pursuers, they descended to meet them in the vestibule, and to hear
all their apprehensions most fatally confirmed with regard to their
beloved Theophilus. They had persuaded themselves that they were
prepared for this result; but yet the shock was so severe, that it
proved how much more of hope had lingered in every breast than had
been acknowledged to each other, or even to themselves. Claudia was
entirely unable to command herself, and she retired with Naomi to
indulge her grief, and listen to the consolations which her pious and
highly-gifted friend was enabled to bestow. When they had left the
apartment, Zadok endeavoured to change the sad current of his own
thoughts and those of his family, by urging on Amaziah the necessity
for his immediately quitting the city. He represented to him the
extreme danger to which he exposed himself, and those who were
dearest to him, by remaining any longer in a place where he had
become the object of so much resentment, both among the higher and
lower classes; and as his further stay could now be of no advantage
to his unhappy son, he earnestly entreated him to commence his
journey on the following morning, and thus escape from impending
destruction, and remove himself and his family to a distance from the
cruel scene which would take place at noon on that day. The feelings
of Amaziah were harrowed by this appeal; and yet consideration for
his family would have induced him to comply with his brother's
advice, however painful it would be to him to leave the city while
his son was yet alive, to suffer shame and death; but Judith would
not listen to the proposal.
"No," she exclaimed, "nothing shall tear me hence until I know that
my child is dead. If danger is to be encountered, I will not flee
from it, till he is set free for ever from all pain and all peril.
Then, when his ransomed and purified spirit is in the mansions of
peace and joy, I will go forth with my husband, and seek a shelter in
some spot where virtue and piety are not the mark for insult and
murder."
"Dear Judith," replied Zadok, "I feel for your sorrow; and I would to
God that I could have power to remove it. Your errors and those of
my brother have not destroyed my love for you, deeply as I deplore
them; and anxiety for your safety is my only motive for urging you to
leave my house. While you remain, which must be as short a time as
possible, I will protect you even with my own life; and when you
consent to seek a safer refuge, I will go with you and guard you on
your way as far as Joppa. Though we have now, alas! no longer the
same object in attending you there which first induced me to consent
to take the journey, yet I feel that I can be a protection to you;
and also that our poor afflicted Claudia will be soothed and
supported by Naomi's presence."
"You have never been unkind, Zadok, even when most displeased with
us," said Judith; "and this is a proof of your affection which I
gratefully accept. Your society and that of our dear Naomi will be
the greatest consolation that we can enjoy during our melancholy
journey. I will make the best return that is in my power for your
kindness, by remaining beneath your roof no longer than until the sun
has set to-morrow. Oh! how that word to-morrow makes my heart sink
away and fail within me! But I will be strong in the help of the
Lord, and try to conquer such faithless fear and dread. I will
promise to be ready to leave this most melancholy and yet most
beloved place when to-morrow's light is fading away, and we may then
reach Joppa the following evening. I will go now and give orders to
our servants, that everything may be prepared, for I may not be so
well able to exert myself to-morrow. Come, dear sister Salome, and
give me your aid and your kind sympathy."
The necessity for exertion was useful to Judith and to Salome, who
called up unwonted firmness, and commanded her feelings, that she
might be able to assist those whose sorrow was so much deeper than
her own. When Claudia was informed of the determination to leave
Jerusalem on the morrow, she seemed to be overwhelmed with fresh
grief, and earnestly besought that she might not be torn away so
soon, and even that she might remain altogether with Naomi, and enjoy
the melancholy pleasure of recalling all her past happiness, and
dwelling in the same place where she had conversed with him, and
learned from his lips the way of everlasting life. Kindly and gently
Naomi reasoned with her, and showed her the danger and impropriety of
her wish being gratified. She spoke of Judith's solitude when
deprived of her son, and also of her whom she already looked upon as
a daughter, and that argument made its way to Claudia's affectionate
heart, and changed her inclinations. She resolved to follow her
adopted mother wherever she and Amaziah should go, and to devote
herself to the task of cheering them, and supplying the place of
their only child: and this resolution roused and supported her, and
gave her an object for which she felt content to live and to bear her
sorrow, so long as the Lord should appoint her days on earth.
The hours passed away, though slowly and sadly. Even Mary of
Bethezob, whose spirits were usually unfailing, was buried in silence
and sorrow: and little David, the life and amusement of all the house
in happier days, was unnoticed and neglected. Night brought no
cessation of the misery of that family, for sleep did not visit them,
and they met on the fatal morning with countenances that showed deep
traces of watchfulness and tears.
[Illustration: Tombs of the Kings]