The sun approached his meridian height, and as he mounted higher and
higher the feelings of the sad and watching group became more
intensely excited, until at the sixth hour, when his burning rays
fell vertically on the terrace into which the apartment opened, a
distant noise of the voices of many people reached their ears. It
was a savage shout of joy and exultation; and it sunk into the hearts
of the mourners as a death-knell. At that moment the headless bodies
of the nine victims were thrown over the prison walls, and suspended
there to be the objects of insult and mockery to the barbarous
multitude. Javan's order that the executions should take place in
the cells of the prison, and not publicly, had occasioned great
discontent among the populace, who had expected to indulge their
cruel and bloodthirsty inclinations by witnessing the last sufferings
of the Nazarenes; and to gratify them the bodies were thus exposed
until sunset; while wine and food were liberally distributed among
the crowd at the command of Javan and his colleagues, who feared to
excite the displeasure of the lawless rabble at such a time of
sedition and insubordination.
A servant of Zadok's had been privately sent by him to await the
exhibition of the dreadful spectacle, and to bring the intelligence
to him when all was over. The man had known Theophilus well, and had
loved him; and when he returned to his master's house, and Zadok met
him in the vestibule, he was trembling with horror and distress. The
heads of the unhappy victims had not been exposed, but he had
recognised the body of Theophilus by the garments which he
well-remembered, and particularly a vest which Claudia had
embroidered, and which he had worn on the evening when he left the
house to return no more. Zadok rejoined his family, and they saw too
plainly by his agitated countenance that all was over.
"The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away, and blessed be the name
of the Lord!" said he solemnly, as he entered the room; and a burst
of uncontrollable grief was the only reply. But Amaziah did not long
give way to this natural emotion; he knelt down in the midst of the
group, who all followed his example; and in a tone of calmness, that
astonished Zadok and Salome, he offered up fervent praises and
thanksgivings that his dear son had now fought the good fight and
finished his course, and had received the crown of glory laid up for
him in heaven.
This done, he called his brother aside, and spoke to him on the
subject that now weighed heaviest on his heart. The suggestion of
Javan that the bodies of the prisoners should be burnt in the fires
of Hinnom had been made known to him, and had occasioned additional
misery both to him and Judith; and he requested Zadok to use all his
influence with Javan and the other members of the council to obtain
an order for the body of Theophilus to be restored to them, that they
might have the satisfaction of burying it before they left the city.
Zadok feared that his efforts to procure this indulgence would not be
successful, but he readily promised to make the attempt; and
immediately left the house in search of his son, who had not appeared
to his family since the fatal sentence had been pronounced on the
preceding day. He found him at the house of one of his colleagues;
and the air of satisfaction that reigned on his countenance gave a
bitter pang to the heart of his father.
"Javan," he said, in a tone which showed his own emotions, "the
dreadful scene is over, and I can no longer plead for the life of our
kinsman. He has paid the debt which perhaps was due to his offended
country and violated religion; and I would to God that he were yet
living to forsake his errors and redeem his character. It is
passed--and henceforth never let us speak on this subject again. My
object in now coming to you is to request, as a favour to myself,
that the body of one who is so nearly connected to me may not be
exposed to the indignity which forms part of the sentence pronounced
upon him. You were the proposer of that additional cruelty, and
doubtless you can obtain the reversion of the sentence, if not for
all the criminals, yet at least in this single instance."
"My father," replied Javan, "I see that you also wrong me, and
attribute to me a wanton cruelty that is not in my nature. I did not
wish my cousin's death; it was his restoration to virtue and piety
that I desired; and that being hopeless, no course remained but to
allow the laws of our holy religion to be executed. I have but
discharged my duty in removing the unclean thing from the camp of
Israel, and sparing not my own flesh and blood when the honour of
Jehovah required the sacrifice. I had expected that you, my revered
father, would have applauded my zeal, and joined with me in purging
out this dreadful heresy, whatever might be the cost. But since you
blame me, I must stand alone, and my conscience bears me witness that
I stand guiltless. As to your request for the body of my misguided
cousin, it grieves me to deny it; but I have no power to change the
sentence. It was passed by the assembled council, as a preventive to
sacrilege and profaneness; and I cannot from personal considerations,
demand the reversion of so wise and necessary a decree."
Zadok's brow grew dark. He had condescended to ask a favour from his
son, instead of laying on him a command, which would have been more
in accordance with Jewish manners, but which in Javan's case had long
been found ineffectual. He had thrown off the paternal yoke whenever
the obedience which was required was in opposition to his own views
and principles; and though he respected and loved his father, he
considered himself much more competent than Zadok to judge what line
of conduct it was right to adopt. He saw that his father was
frequently influenced by his kind and generous feelings to depart
from the severe principles of his sect, and to lay aside the narrow
views which generally governed the proud Pharisees of that period;
while he prided himself on making every feeling and every interest
give way to party spirit and religious bigotry. He had therefore
learnt to treat his excellent and high-minded father as an equal,
instead of looking up to him as the guide and example which in his
earlier years it was his highest aim to follow and imitate. Zadok
knew and felt all this, and he perceived that his son was now acting
from motives which he did not entirely disclose, and which probably
he thought his father would neither share nor duly estimate. He was
convinced that Javan was not to be shaken by persuasion, and he
spared himself the pain of a second refusal; but for Claudia's sake
he made another request, which he felt sure could not be denied. He
desired that Javan would send for the vest in which the corpse of
Theophilus was still attired, and allow him to carry it back to his
unhappy young friend, as a last relic of him whom she had loved so
fervently. To this Javan readily consented, and requested his father
to tarry in the house of his friend until he should return with the
embroidered garment, as he imagined that he would not willingly go to
gaze on the mangled remains of his beloved nephew. He was not long
absent, and when he returned he placed in Zadok's hand the vest,
which was stained with the blood of the noble victim. The priest
looked at it with deep emotion, and then returned to his own now
gloomy dwelling.
Claudia had not been informed of the degradation which was designed
for the remains of the heroic band of prisoners, and therefore she
knew nothing of the object for which Zadok had gone forth. But when
he gave her the well-remembered vest which she had worked with so
much delight, and which Theophilus had loved so much to wear, she
thanked him with her tears for his kind consideration in procuring it
for her, and pressed the sad relic to her heart, with a feeling that
all her earthly hopes had flown away with the life-blood that stained
it.
Javan did not come home that day. He knew from Reuben of everything
that was going on in his father's house; but to the surprise of that
artful and cold-blooded villain, he took no steps to prevent the
departure of his uncle, and secure another victim to tyranny and
fanaticism. Reuben marvelled at his employer's apathy; and had not
Javan read his countenance, and suspected designs, he would have
hurried away and betrayed Amaziah's movements to others of the
council, who would not have scrupled to take advantage of such
information, and perhaps to waylay and apprehend him. His
destruction and that of his family had long been determined on by
these men, who were so zealous for the law; and they hoped to execute
their purpose at an early opportunity, never suspecting that Amaziah
would leave the city so immediately after the catastrophe which had
befallen him. Javan was, of course, not ignorant of these
intentions; and he secretly rejoiced that they would be frustrated.
Indeed it was owing to his contrivances that the warnings had been
given to his uncle to lose no time; and he had said enough in his
father's hearing to make him urge the instant departure of his
relatives; and to prevent the possibility of Reuben's busy and
intriguing spirit being exerted to thwart his private wishes for his
uncle's escape, he kept him in his sight the whole of the day, and
did not suffer him to speak to any person out of his hearing.
Thus, though Amaziah and his family knew it not, the same Javan who
had caused all their anguish and woe was now engaged in securing
their safety; and it was owing to his precautions, that when the last
rays of the sun were gleaming on the summit of Mount Olivet, they
passed quietly and undisturbed through the water-gate, and entered
the valley of Jehosaphat, that ran along the eastern wall of the
city, watered by the brook of Kedron, and filled with blooming
gardens and fruitful orchards. This was not the way by which the
travellers would naturally have quitted Jerusalem to proceed towards
Joppa, as that city lay to the north-west; but they were unwilling to
traverse the streets in order to reach the gate of the Upper
Fountain, for they feared to expose themselves to observation.
Therefore they passed along the valley until they came to the Tower
of the Corner, when they took the road to Rama and Emmaus. They were
a sad and silent party, and all were deeply absorbed in their own
melancholy reflections. Even the servants and armed attendants felt
so much respect and sympathy for their sorrow, that they spoke not,
save in a whisper; and no sound was heard to break the stillness of
the evening, except the measured tread of the mules that carried the
litters and the baggage, and the horses on which Zadok and Amaziah
rode. Naomi and Claudia travelled in the same conveyance; but Judith
preferred being alone, that she might lift up her soul to God in
freedom, and pour her griefs into the compassionate bosom of her
Redeemer. It had been a severe trial to her, as well as to her
husband and Claudia, to leave the place where all that remained of
their beloved Theophilus yet rested; and when she found herself
enclosed in the curtains of the litter, and hidden from every eye but
that of her Heavenly Father, she gave a vent to her sorrow, which
relieved her bursting heart. Salome had offered to accompany her to
Joppa, with Zadok and Naomi, but Judith would not allow her to do so.
Her health was delicate, and the late trying scenes had so powerfully
affected her, that she was not equal to the journey, and she
therefore remained at home with Mary and her lovely little boy, who
were to abide in her house until the return of Zadok and her
daughter. Javan too would be her protector and occasional companion,
though his presence had ceased to give his mother the pleasure that
once it did, since he had been the means of changing her happy home
into a scene of anxious care and sorrow.
While Amaziah and his company were passing forth from Zadok's house,
and descending the steep street that led to the water-gate, they
heard the distant sound of rumbling wheels on the bridge that crossed
the brook of Siloam above the pool, and led to the road that opened
into the valley of Hinnom. Zadok and Amaziah turned a quick and
anxious gaze behind them, and saw afar off two heavy carts, attended
by armed guards, and followed by a vast concourse of persons. The
distance and the fading light prevented their distinguishing what
burden the vehicles bore, but they knew that they contained the
relics of the good, the brave, and the dearly-loved, and they
shuddered as they thought of their destination.
The valley of Hinnom lay to the south of the city, between Solomon's
Pool and the Potter's Field. A stream ran through it, which flowed
into the Kedron, and by the side of this rapid stream the smoke of
constant fires was ever rising, and a hot and sickly vapour filled
the air and rose to the hills on which the southern wall of Zion was
built. In the shadow of that wall Javan was pacing to and fro,
followed by Reuben, whom he still retained near him, until he could
feel certain that his uncle was beyond the reach of his enemies. It
would be difficult to say why Javan had chosen to resort to that spot
at such a time. The loathsome valley was generally shunned by all
who were not compelled by necessity to pass that way; and Javan had
seldom visited the elevated terrace that overlooked it, and which but
for this circumstance would have been a favourite and frequented
walk. The view which this site commanded was noble and extensive,
reaching over the varied and fertile plain to the Dead Sea and the
mountains of Arabia Petræa, which form its eastern boundary, and
embracing also the Hills of Judgment and Mount Olivet to the left.
But it was not the beauty of this prospect that drew Javan thither on
the present occasion. It was rather a strange desire to see the
conclusion of a scene of horror and of woe, which had occupied his
mind and filled him with gloomy and anxious thoughts for so many days
and weeks. He had accomplished all his schemes against his unhappy
cousin; but he was not happy--for with all his efforts he could not
stifle his natural feelings so entirely as to be insensible to the
sorrow which he had brought upon his family. He dreaded returning
home to encounter the silent reproach of their tears; and almost
unconsciously he wandered towards the valley of Hinnom, to excite
still more his feelings of horror, by witnessing the last indignity
that could be offered to the remains of the victims of fanaticism.
The heavy carts rolled slowly along the valley, and paused as they
reached each smouldering fire. The filth and rubbish which composed
the daily fuel of these fires were nearly exhausted: but fresh
combustibles were cast on them to make the funeral-piles of the
martyrs, and then the bodies were flung, naked and headless, to be
reduced to ashes. Javan watched them one by one, and by the light of
the lurid flames he saw nine livid corpses thrown from the carts.
His heart sickened, but he could not leave the spot, and there he
stood, gazing down on the dreadful spectacle until all was over. The
forms of the degraded criminals whose loathsome office it was to
attend to these fires, were seen moving about amid the smoke and
vapour, and appeared fitting inhabitants of this Gehenna, or place of
Hell-fire, as it was commonly called. To Javan's excited imagination
the altars once erected on this spot to Chemosh, Moloch, and
Ashtaroth, were present again, reeking with their human sacrifices;
and the cries of the innocent children who were offered up by
hundreds to the gods of cruelty and murder sounded in his ears. The
savage mob that had followed the dead-carts stood round to enjoy the
spectacle, and as the flames burst forth afresh, and the bodies
consumed away, they expressed their exultation and joy by loud
discordant shouts, that only added to the infernal character of the
scene. Among this rabble were some who came from other motives, and
who trembled with stifled emotion, while to escape observation they
endeavoured to join in the cries of the surrounding crowd. These
were the friends and relatives of the martyred Nazarenes, and they
came to wait until vengeance had been satiated on the bodies of those
they loved, and the valley should be abandoned to the dogs and the
vultures that lurked around to snatch their horrid meal.
One by one the fires went out, and darkness overspread the valley.
The crowd dispersed, and the criminals left their daily employment to
seek a short repose in some wretched huts at a little distance from
the place of their appointed labours. Then, when all was silent,
Javan saw a number of men and women approach one of the fires which
yet continued smouldering, and light their torches at the embers.
Carefully they searched among the ashes for the bones of their
relatives which yet were unconsumed, and having collected them from
every fire, they enclosed the precious relics altogether in a casket,
and noiselessly moved away down the valley toward Solomon's Pool.
"Shall I follow them?" whispered Reuben; and Javan started at the
sound of his harsh voice, for he had forgotten that the menial was
still waiting near him, and watching all that occurred in the valley
with an interest equal to his own, but of a different nature. "Shall
I follow them?" he repeated, "for they must surely be some of those
accursed Nazarenes, who thus came to seek the remains of the
malefactors. They cannot enter the city to-night, and I can watch
where they hide. And then if your guards are let out on them in
their lurking-place, we shall easily secure the prey, and ere long we
shall have another such day as this!"
"Silence, villain!" cried Javan, disgusted at the coarse brutality of
the menial, who believed that his employer shared his own feelings of
gratification in the actual cruelties of that day, and thought that,
like him, he would rejoice in the prospect of a repetition of them.
"Follow me to the city," he continued, "and you shall receive
to-morrow the reward of your services. When I require them again I
shall summon you; and meanwhile I command you to exert your powers of
observation, and inform me if anything occurs which way be of
consequence to my affairs; but see that you confide in no one else at
your peril. Especially keep watch whether Isaac or any of his
emissaries attempt to hold intercourse with your noble mistress, for
we must preserve her and her property from his hands."
Reuben obeyed, and followed Javan, wondering at his apathy in
neglecting so good an opportunity of replenishing the prison with
fresh Nazarene captives, and regretting the reward which he might
have received for his information from others of the Pharisees or
chief-priests. But he did not dare to dispute Javan's commands, and
accompanied him to the gate, where they were readily admitted, as the
young Pharisee was well known to the officer on guard there. They
proceeded to the house of one of Javan's friends, and passed the
night there; and in the morning returned to the dwelling of Zadok,
where they soon learnt from Deborah that the priest, with his brother
and all his family, had left the city on the preceding evening.
Hannah had also accompanied them, with several others of their
domestics who were suspected of partaking in their heretical
opinions; and none remained who could be objects of persecution on
account of their faith.
This was satisfactory news to Javan, and he immediately dismissed
Reuben with a liberal present; and having paid his mother a short
visit, which was equally painful to them both, he occupied himself in
prosecuting his political plans, and forwarding his arrangements for
the reception of Simon.
Meanwhile the travellers had proceeded without interruption through
Rama to Emmaus, where they paused to rest and refresh themselves, and
then resumed their journey. At Lydda, where they arrived at an early
hour the following day, they made inquiries, and found that a band of
Roman soldiers had come thither from Joppa for several days
preceding, and had diligently sought for a party of travellers from
Jerusalem, but had returned each evening greatly disappointed at not
meeting them. It was hardly safe for Amaziah's company to advance
further on their way, without a stronger guard than his own and
Zadok's armed servants. They were about to leave the province of
Judea, and enter that of Samaria, which was almost entirely in the
hands of the Romans; and without being under the protection of some
of the conquerors, they might be exposed to insult and danger. But
it was uncertain whether Rufus would send his men again to meet them;
and it was even possible that he might not wait any longer at Joppa,
but return to the Roman army at Cæsarea, under the impression that
his daughter's plans were changed, and that she would not now join
him there. These considerations induced Zadok and Amaziah to decide
on proceeding to Joppa without delay. They had traversed more than
half the distance which divided the two cities, when they saw a band
of soldiers approaching towards them, whose martial bearing and
well-appointed accoutrements declared them to belong to the
invincible army of Rome. Whether they came as friends or foes could
not be discovered, and therefore Amaziah marshalled his men, and
prepared for resistance if necessary.
The fears of his party were however speedily removed, by seeing the
officer who commanded the troop put his horse into a gallop and
advance alone to meet them. It was Marcellus; and though so many
years had elapsed since Zadok and Amaziah had seen him, they
immediately recognised his noble, ingenuous expression of
countenance; and the warmth of feeling that beamed in his bright eye
when he extended his hand to greet them, showed them that his long
absence had not deadened his affections or obliterated the
remembrance of early friendship.
His own eagerness prevented him at the first moment from observing
that his friends did not receive him with the same joyful feelings
that filled his own heart, and he was going to hurry past them
towards the litters that followed at some distance, exclaiming,--
"Where is my dear sister, and where is Naomi? Theophilus, too, I do
not see him; but no doubt he is in close attendance on Claudia. He
is a happy man! I wish my prospects in life were as smiling as his."
Amaziah turned away in anguish at this playful observation; and Zadok
caught the hand of Marcellus, who now perceived that all was not so
full of happiness as he supposed.
"Is anything the matter?" he cried. "Is Naomi safe and well?" his
fears making him recur first to her who was uppermost in his thoughts
and affections.
"It is not for her, my son," replied Zadok, "that your sympathy will
be excited; our poor Claudia will want all your affectionate
consolations."
"What has befallen my own dear sister?" interrupted Marcellus
hastily, yet with a feeling of relief that his fears for Naomi were
groundless.
"All her hopes and all her happiness are blighted," said Zadok.
"Theophilus is no more, and Claudia's heart is widowed."
"The Lord have pity on her!" ejaculated Marcellus fervently. "What
disease has carried him off so quickly? But I will go to her, poor
girl! She has yet a brother to love and to cherish her, and to mourn
with her over what she has lost."
He dismounted, and giving his horse to a servant, he approached the
litter in which his sister and Naomi were seated. The curtains were
partially withdrawn, and they had seen him conversing with Zadok, and
knew that the sorrowful truth was now made known to him. Claudia
sprang from the litter, and threw herself wildly into his arms, while
tears of bitter grief prevented her utterance. It is needless to
dwell on such a meeting. All that was kind and affectionate
Marcellus expressed; and then he gently replaced his sister in the
litter, and in a voice faltering with emotion of various kinds,
addressed himself to Naomi. She tried to hide her feelings of deep
interest, and to meet him with the easy freedom of an old friend; but
she was not very successful, and Marcellus saw with secret delight
the embarrassment of her manner, and the deep flush that rose on her
pale cheek. He did not however forget the affliction of his friends
in his own happy feelings. He hastened to Judith's litter, and
greeted her with a kindness that only reminded her more forcibly of
the son she had lost, and who had been a friend and companion to
Marcellus when she remembered him in former happy days.
During the rest of the journey Marcellus rode by the side of his
sister, and tried to cheer her with such pious suggestions as he
believed she could receive and understand; but he did not utter the
name of the Redeemer--of him who has promised rest to the weary and
the heavy-laden, and is especially the consolation and support of His
people under all their trials and all their sorrows. Both Claudia
and Naomi felt how ineffectual must be every consolation that is not
derived from Him, and more than ever they regretted that Marcellus
should still, as they supposed, be ignorant of His mercies and His
power; while both resolved to lose no opportunity of endeavouring to
give him that knowledge which they found so precious to their own
souls. But this was not the time for entering on such discussions;
and they reached Joppa under the mutual impression that both parties
were yet in ignorance of the only true way to peace, and to eternal
life.
Rufus received the whole party with kindness and cordiality. His
feelings were not so acute as those of his son, but he entered into
the affliction of his daughter as much as he considered that the loss
of a Jewish lover could demand; and endeavoured to console her with
the hope of finding a more suitable husband among her own countrymen.
This was not an effectual source of comfort to poor Claudia; and as
it also implied that her father expected she should now return with
him to the camp, who entreated Judith, when she was alone with her
and Naomi, to request that she might still be permitted to remain
with her; and though she could now no longer hope to become her
daughter indeed, yet that she might act a daughter's part, and dwell
with her, at least until her father had a home to take her to.
Judith would have been deeply grieved if Claudia had been taken from
her, and she hastened to make her request known to Rufus, who kindly
consented that she should accompany her friends to Ephesus, and
remain there until he was able to return in peace to Rome. He was
delighted with the improvement which had taken place in her since he
had last seen her, and with the sweetness and gentleness that was
apparent in her manner, in the midst of her deep affliction. She
exerted herself to please her father, and to show the pleasure which
she felt at seeing him, by repressing her own grief as much as
possible in his presence. But when she found herself alone with
Marcellus and Naomi, she indulged the feelings of her heart by
expatiating on the many virtues and amiable qualities of him who
occupied all her thoughts; and then it was that her brother first
learned the cause of Theophilus's death.
"O Marcellus," said his sister, "how you would have esteemed and
loved him if the Lord had spared him to meet you as a brother! But
you could not have valued him as he deserved, for that very constancy
and faith which led him to brave death, would have appeared madness
and folly in your eyes."
"What can you mean, Claudia?" exclaimed Marcellus, eagerly. "Did not
Theophilus die a natural death? I have heard no particulars, for I
have been unable to speak to Zadok in private."
"Then you have not heard that he perished a martyr to the name of
Jesus of Nazareth! and you do not know that your unhappy sister had
learned the way of salvation from him, and now finds all her
consolation and all her hope in that faith, which you, alas! despise."
"My dearest sister," cried Marcellus, embracing her with the warmest
expressions of joy and affection, "this is a discovery which I had
not even hoped for. Then we are united by a tie even stronger and
more sacred than that of our own near relationship. I too may glory
in the name of Christian; and doubly do I now regret the untimely end
of our poor Theophilus, since a union with him would only have
strengthened you in this most holy faith, and not have tended, as I
feared, to close your heart against the admission of the truth."
Tears of surprise and delight sprang to Naomi's eyes at this
unexpected confession on the part of Marcellus; and when he turned a
look of anxious inquiry towards her, and read the expression of her
lovely and animated countenance, he could not doubt that all for
which he had hoped and prayed was already fulfilled, and that the
great obstacle which he feared might for ever have separated them,
was already removed.
"Naomi," he said, "am I right in indulging the hope that you also
share the feelings and the sentiments of my sister? It would be
happiness indeed to hear your lips confess the name of Jesus the
Messiah."
"Blessed be that name for ever!" replied Naomi with fervour. "I know
that there is none other name under heaven whereby we may be saved."
"How merciful has the Lord been to us," said Claudia, "in thus
leading us by various methods into the same way of salvation! When,
my brother, did you hear of Jesus? and who opened to you the
treasures of the Gospel?"
Marcellus related to his attentive auditors all the particulars of
his conversion at Rome, and the various events which had since that
time strengthened and confirmed his faith. And from Claudia and
Naomi he learned the interesting story of their spiritual birth and
admission into the church of Christ. Naomi did not dwell on what she
had suffered, or the trials to which her faith had once been
subjected; but Claudia was eloquent in describing the piety and the
firmness of her friend, and the benefit which she herself had derived
from her consistent character and holy life and conversation. All
this was music to the ears of Marcellus. He had loved Naomi when he
was a mere boy, and as he grew to manhood he loved her more and more.
And after he had left Jerusalem, and entered into the gaieties and
business of life, he still looked back with fond remembrance to the
time when she was his constant companion; and her image was ever
present to his heart and his memory. Never during his residence at
Rome, or his subsequent wanderings, had he seen a being who could
compare with the Jewish maiden, and all his hopes of future happiness
were connected with her. Many were the fruitless schemes which he
had at various times devised for getting admission into Jerusalem and
seeing her again, and when he found that he was to have the happiness
of meeting her at Joppa, his anxiety and impatience knew no bounds.
But still there was one ever-recurring thought that damped his hopes
and checked his desire of seeing her. He believed that Naomi was a
Jewess in religion as well as by birth. She was the daughter of
Zadok, the zealous Pharisee, the sister of the fanatical Javan; and
could he ever hope that she would return the affection of a Gentile,
and still worse, of a Nazarene? and even if she should yet remember
him with the same feelings that she entertained for him in former
days, was it probable that her father would consent to bestow her on
a Roman soldier; or would his own conscience allow him to seek a
union with one who could not share his most sacred feelings, and who
would despise what he held most dear and holy? All these reflections
rose strongly to his mind when he did again behold her, and almost
made him regret that she appeared yet more lovely and more
interesting than his memory had depicted her. But now to find that
all his worst fears were unfounded, and that Naomi was like himself,
a Christian, was greater happiness than he had ever dared to hope.
It was not long before Marcellus had ascertained that his affection
for Naomi was returned, and that during his long absence he had been
remembered with all the constancy that he could have wished; and he
readily obtained a promise that if Zadok's concurrence could be
obtained she would consent to be united to him as soon as the war had
terminated. Until that period they must be again separated, for
Naomi would not hear of leaving her mother under the present
circumstances; and indeed she greatly feared that a more
insurmountable obstacle would be presented in the opposition of Zadok
to their wishes. Marcellus sought an interview with the priest
immediately after his conversation with Naomi, and frankly declared
to him his attachment to his daughter, and his happiness in knowing
that she was not insensible to his love and constancy; and then he
requested that all his long-cherished hopes might be crowned by a
promise that she should be united to him in marriage as soon as the
state of the country would permit him to enter Jerusalem and claim
her. Zadok listened to his young and ardent friend with calmness,
though with a clouded brow. Once he would have spurned his offers
with disdain, and have declared that he would rather consign his
child to the grave than bestow her on a Gentile and a Roman; but
since her renunciation of her early faith, all his high hopes for her
future destiny had faded away. He knew that she would never consent
to become the wife of a Jew; and if he were to seek a partner and
protector for her out of the pale of that religion which he regarded
as the only way to heaven, where could he find one to whom he could
confide her with more satisfaction than to Marcellus? All his
ancient prejudices rose up to oppose the plan but esteem for the
private character of the suppliant, and consideration for Naomi's own
wishes on the subject prevailed. He consented, though unwillingly,
that if at any future time Marcellus should come to demand his
daughter, and be enabled to offer her a happy and peaceful home, he
should be rewarded for his constancy by receiving her hand, and the
rich dowry which was always intended to be her marriage portion.
Joyfully did Marcellus hasten to communicate this unhoped-for
acquiescence to Naomi; and but for the sorrow that weighed so heavily
on the heart of Claudia and her friends, and cast a gloom over all
their own happiness, the few days that they passed together at Joppa
would have been the brightest of their lives.
Judith and Amaziah rejoiced sincerely at the prospect of Naomi's
being removed from Jerusalem, and thenceforth permitted to exercise
her religion without opposition; and Claudia tried to offer her
congratulations; but tears prevented her words of joy from being
audible, for her heart recurred with a feeling of desolation to the
time so lately past, when all the happiness that now seemed to be
presented to Naomi had been so suddenly snatched from her own grasp,
and buried for ever in the grave of Theophilus.
Nearly a week had elapsed since the arrival of the travellers, and
the vessel that was to sail from Joppa to Ephesus had received her
cargo, when a notice was given to Amaziah that she would weigh anchor
the following morning, and that he and his party must go on board at
sunrise. All his baggage was taken to the ship that same evening;
and at the dawn of day Naomi took leave of the friends she loved so
well, and stood on the shore to watch with weeping eyes the boat that
carried them out to the vessel. It was a sorrowful parting for them
all; but Naomi had not time for a long indulgence of her grief, as
Zadok announced to her that it would be necessary for him to leave
Joppa that same day, and that she must be in readiness to start in a
few hours. Letters had just reached him from Javan, to desire his
speedy return to the city, as important political arrangements
demanded his presence, and therefore, as their friends had departed,
there was nothing to detain them any longer from home.
Marcellus and Naomi thought differently, but they did not venture to
plead for a further delay; and in the afternoon they left Joppa with
Zadok and Rufus, who accompanied his friends as far as Lydda. From
thence the priest and his daughter proceeded towards Jerusalem, and
Rufus and his son turned their steps in the opposite direction, to
join their comrades at Cæsarea. Then did the rough but kind-hearted
soldier give vent to all his feelings of indignation at the conduct
of Javan, which he had hitherto restrained out of respect for Zadok.
He vowed vengeance against the treacherous Jew, who had thus escaped
from the Roman army to blast the happiness of his own family, and
reduce Claudia to sorrow and desolation. Marcellus sought to check
his rage; but he could not wonder that an idolater should thus feel
towards one who professed to be guided by a pure religion, and yet
disgraced his profession by cruelty and treachery, such as the
heathen would have scorned to commit.
[Illustration: Tombs of the Kings]