This was no time for the indulgence of sorrow. Soon after the green
turf was laid over the grave of Salome, a messenger arrived from
Simon to demand the immediate appearance of Javan at the temple, as
the gates were about to be fired by order of Titus, and every hand
was required to prevent the execution of the dreadful project. Javan
hurried to the spot, accompanied by his father and Theophilus, and
they found that all the fears of the besieged were realized. Blazing
torches had been applied to the gates, and the plates of silver that
covered them had become intensely heated. The wooden framework had
caught fire, and as they entered the court they saw the flames spring
up in several directions. They joined their companions and friends
in exhorting the soldiers to make every effort to extinguish the fire
or arrest its further progress; but a panic had seized the men,
hitherto so dauntless, and in silent dismay they watched the flames
rising higher and fiercer, until in a short time they were
communicated to the inner cloisters. The besieged now saw a circle
of fire spreading round them, and destruction threatening themselves
and their magnificent temple. All day the flames raged with
violence, and the whole of the rich and beautiful cloisters were in
ruins, while the officers and leaders of the Jews used ineffectual
efforts to rouse their men from the state of consternation into which
they and sunk. At night, Zadok and Theophilus returned to Naomi for
a few hours, but Javan remained with his chieftain, resolved to share
his dangers and assist his councils.
When morning dawned Zadok prepared to leave his home once more, and
join his son amid the burning walls of the sacred edifice, to defend
them, or to perish beneath their ruins. Naomi felt a dark
foreboding, as her father came to bid her farewell, that it might be
the last time she should receive his affectionate embrace, or listen
to a benediction from his lips.
"Oh, my father," she cried, while she fell at his feet and embraced
his knees, "do not leave me--do not rush into certain destruction.
The hour is at hand when our city will be trodden by the Gentiles,
and it is in vain to resist the decrees of Heaven. Tarry with me, I
implore you, and let me meet death by your side."
"Do not abandon yourself to despair, my child," replied Zadok,
raising her from the ground and pressing her fondly to his heart.
"All is not yet lost; and though my hopes of triumph and deliverance
are fading away, yet still there may be an effectual resistance made
to the enemy, and we may obtain terms from the conqueror. I will
return to you if immediate danger threatens the city, and Theophilus
shall remain to support and comfort you. A sacred duty calls me to
the temple, and as a servant of the living God I must not abandon His
sanctuary. Farewell, my Naomi; may the blessing of the Almighty rest
upon you."
He left her, and she gazed after him through her tears until the
gates of the courtyard closed behind him and hid his manly form from
her view. Theophilus would not leave his cousin alone to her grief
and apprehensions. He knew that his presence in the temple could be
of no avail to arrest the approaching ruin, and therefore he remained
to cheer the drooping spirit of Naomi, and if necessary, to die in
her defence.
It was now the 10th of August, that fatal day which had already
proved so calamitous to Jerusalem, when the Temple of Solomon was
destroyed by the Babylonian king. Titus beheld the spreading flames
that threatened the total demolition of the second glorious temple of
Jehovah, and he was moved to pity that so much splendour and beauty
should be laid in ruins. He called a council of war, and solemnly
discussed with his officers the question whether the sacred edifice
should be preserved, or left to the effects of the destroying
element. Many of his advisers were of opinion that the temple should
no longer be regarded as a sanctuary, but as a fortress, and that it
ought to be treated like any other stronghold of rebellion. But
Titus was inclined towards milder measures. The magnificence of the
building had struck him with profound admiration, and he wished to
preserve it as one of the proudest ornaments of the Roman empire. In
this desire he was seconded by several of his principal officers, and
by Marcellus more warmly than the rest, and orders were instantly
issued for the soldiers to unite their efforts to extinguish the
flames.
It was in vain; a higher decree than that of Titus had doomed the
temple to destruction, and his legions were unable to stay the course
of the sword of Divine vengeance. While they toiled in fruitless
zeal for the preservation of the devoted building, the Jews suddenly
roused themselves and shook off the terror which had kept them
inactive all the preceding day and night, and desperate thoughts of
vengeance seized on their minds. Led on by Simon and Javan, they
made a furious sally from the eastern gate upon the guards who were
posted in the outer court. The Romans locked their shields together
and received the shock with unbroken ranks; but such multitudes of
the besieged came rushing upon them that Titus himself was obliged to
come to their defence, and with a choice band of men he at length
succeeded in repulsing the Jews, and driving them back from the court
into the temple again. He then withdrew into the Antonia, intending
to make a general and final assault on the following morning. After
he had retired, a party of the besieged, not discouraged by their
repulse in the morning, made another attack upon the soldiers who
were still employed in extinguishing the fire in the cloisters. The
Romans drove them back, and followed them within the sacred precincts
even to the door of the temple itself. One of the legionaries,
animated with fury and a love of destruction, climbed on the
shoulders of a comrade who stood before him, and threw a lighted
torch through a small gilded door into the porch. The flames at once
sprang up, and the Jews uttered one wild and general shriek of
consternation and rage, and grasping their swords, resolved to
revenge the sacrilegious act and perish in the ruins of the temple.
Titus was asleep when Marcellus rushed into his chamber with the
startling intelligence that the temple was on fire. He started up,
and they both hastened to the spot, which was already crowded with
Roman soldiers. With shouts and gestures the general commanded his
men to quench the flames, but his voice was unheeded or drowned in
the deafening clamour that surrounded him.
The legionaries rushed on: many of them cast flaming torches into the
inner court, and then, drawing their swords, turned to the work of
slaughter. Thousands fell in the first onset, and the temple steps
flowed with blood, though Titus made every exertion in his power to
put a stop to the carnage. He entered the temple with his officers,
and gazed in wonder and admiration on the matchless splendour that
met his view. As yet the holy place was untouched by the fire, and
he made a last effort to save it. But one of the soldiers privately
contrived to thrust a torch between the hinges of the door, and in a
few moments the building was enveloped in flames. Titus and his
companions were forced to retire, and the whole of the glorious
structure was abandoned to ruin. One by one the different parts of
the building fell in with a tremendous crash. The cedar roofs became
a sheet of flame, and the towers and pinnacles rose in columns of
fire high above the rest of the edifice. The light spread far and
wide, and was reflected from the neighbouring hills with a lurid glow.
At this awful moment the son of Ananus once more appeared. Wild and
ghastly he stalked through the courts of the temple, and mounted the
tottering wall. He gazed around him on the scene of desolation that
so fearfully fulfilled his oft-repeated prophecy. Then he cried with
a loud voice, "Woe to myself!" and as he spoke, a stone that was cast
from the engines below struck him, and he fell backward a corpse in
the flaming ruins.
What were the sensations of the horror-stricken inhabitants when they
were aroused by the shout that burst from the temple when the
conflagration broke out! They looked towards the holy hill, and
beheld its summit a mass of glowing flames. Fear and wrath and dire
revenge animated the pale countenances of these famished and woe-worn
men; and from the streets of the upper city were heard such cries of
anguish and despair as reached the rocks and hills around, and were
echoed back to mingle with the shouts of the Roman soldiers, and the
dying groans of those who were perishing in the flames. In the midst
of the confusion John of Gischala, ever intent on his own
preservation, rushed out of the temple with a band of Zealots, and
succeeded in forcing his way through the crowd and reaching the upper
city in safety. At a later period a larger body of his adherents
also took refuge there; but the priests and the greater portion of
the Jewish leaders remained in the burning pile.
Every part of the temple was ransacked by the Roman soldiers, who
climbed over heaps of slain to seize on the treasures that gleamed on
all sides. The wealth that had been laid up by the Zealots was
discovered and borne away, with the gold and jewels and rich
vestments belonging to the service of the sanctuary; and even the
bodies of the slaughtered priests were stripped of their embroidered
vests and ornamented girdles by the rapacious hands of the victorious
troops. One small band of Romans were seen hurrying through the
courts, engaged in a different pursuit to that of their
fellow-soldiers. They were Marcellus and a few of his faithful
friends seeking to discover and save Zadok the priest. They were
passing by the altar where he had been wont to minister in his
course, when they observed a Roman soldier tearing away the golden
clasp from the girdle of a slaughtered priest. Marcellus sprang
forward, and beheld the lifeless countenance of Naomi's father. He
had fallen beside the altar, and his features even in death wore the
expression of dignified calmness that seldom deserted him in any
event of life. Marcellus had arrested the plundering hand of the
soldier, and as he stooped to replace the vestments of the priest,
his eye fell on a roll of parchment that had been concealed in the
folds of his garment. He took it up, and what was his astonishment
at perceiving that it was a copy of the Gospel of Jesus Christ!
Could it be possible that Zadok believed that Gospel? He secured the
precious volume in his own vest, and with the assistance of his
comrades bore the body of the priest to that part of the building
where the fire was spreading most rapidly. They cast it into the
flames, and left it to be consumed on that glorious funeral pile;
safe from the insults which were heaped on the mangled forms of his
brethren by the brutal soldiery.
This pious act performed, Marcellus sought for his commander, and
obtained from him permission to lead a sufficient body of men from
the temple to secure the house and family of Zadok from injury.
Already a number of persons had escaped from the burning ruins, and
were rushing distractedly through the streets of the lower city and
that portion of the town which was connected with the temple. They
were pursued by parties of the victorious troops, and the alarm was
spread that the whole body of the Romans was coming down to bring
fire and sword among the wretched inhabitants. Marcellus hurried on;
he dreaded that even now he might be too late to save Naomi and her
mother from danger and alarm. All whom he approached in traversing
the well-known streets that led to Zadok's dwelling, fled before him,
supposing that he and his followers came only to destroy.
The flames of the burning temple illuminated the whole of the city,
and by that terrific light Marcellus saw what ravages famine and the
sword had made among the inhabitants. He stepped shuddering over the
decaying corpses that polluted the streets; and when his eye glanced
upward he met the despairing gaze of many a spectral countenance
watching him from the windows of the houses, and shrinking with
terror at his approach.
The intrepid young soldier trembled with anxiety as he reached the
gate of Zadok's house. Perhaps he should find his beloved Naomi a
ghastly corpse! Could she have survived so much horror and
privation? The gate was closed and secured inside, but it yielded to
the united and powerful efforts of the soldiers, and Marcellus
entered the courtyard. It was silent and deserted, for the domestics
had fled to hide themselves at the dreaded approach of the Romans.
Marcellus stationed the greatest part of his men in the court to
prevent the entrance of any who might come for plunder or
destruction; and attended only by two of his party, he proceeded with
a beating heart to search the house for the objects of his anxiety.
He found them not in the apartments, and he passed out upon the
terrace. The red light that burnt so fiercely above fell upon the
garden beneath the terrace, and he beheld a female form kneeling on
the turf, while by her side stood one who seemed resolved to protect
her or perish with her. An aged woman was near them, who uttered a
shriek of terror as by the light of the conflagration she beheld
three Roman soldiers appear on the terrace. Her scream awakened the
kneeling maiden to a remembrance of her perilous situation, and she
sprang to her feet.
"Slay her, Theophilus!" cried Deborah, in an accent of despair;
"plunge your sword to her heart, and save her from the Roman
conquerors. Better far to see her life-blood flow on the grave of
her mother, than that she should be borne away a captive in the hands
of the idolaters!"
Theophilus gazed on his trembling and lovely charge. Had he been any
other than a disciple of Christ--had he not surely believed that her
Lord and Saviour was able to protect her, and that come what may, his
followers must endure to the end, and possess their soul in patience,
he would have yielded to the wild entreaty of Deborah, and at once
have put an end to Naomi's sufferings and dangers. He supported her
sinking form, for now at last her courage and firmness deserted her,
and she would have fallen to the ground had not Theophilus caught her
in his arms, and held her while the dreaded enemy approached.
Marcellus commanded his men to remain on the terrace and sprang down
the steps alone, crying loudly,
"Naomi, my own betrothed Naomi! you have nothing to fear: it is
Marcellus."
His words were unheeded by Naomi, for she had fainted; and when he
reached the spot where Theophilus stood in grateful astonishment, he
snatched her senseless form from the arms of her cousin, and tears
rolled down his manly cheeks as he gazed on her deathlike countenance.
"Look up, my Naomi," he cried; "look up, and see that it is Marcellus
who supports you. I have looked forward to this moment in the midst
of bloodshed and danger; I have hoped to see your beloved face, as
the reward of every toil. O gracious God! may not my hopes be
snatched from me now in this hour of meeting!"
It was long before Naomi's senses returned; but at length she opened
her eyes, and looked wildly round, expecting to see none but her most
dreaded enemies. What words shall describe her feelings when she saw
the countenance of Marcellus, and heard his exclamation of rapture at
this sign of returning life! Joy was almost as overpowering as fear,
and for a few moments deprived her of utterance. But a delightful
feeling of perfect security came over her soul, and she soon
recovered. Marcellus was with her--what earthly dangers could she
fear?
The surprise and joy of Deborah were more loudly expressed than that
of Naomi. She poured forth her gratitude, mingled with inquiries and
conjectures, which Marcellus was too much absorbed to reply to. But
Naomi had no sooner become convinced of the reality of her own
happiness than her thoughts reverted to her father, and she eagerly
inquired whether Marcellus had obtained any information respecting
him. He would have evaded the question and deferred the sad
intelligence, but Naomi marked his countenance, and her quick eye
detected that he had something to conceal.
"I know it," she exclaimed; "I know the worst. My father has fallen,
and I am an orphan indeed!"
"It is but too true, my Naomi," replied Marcellus; "Zadok has fallen
bravely, in the defence of his hallowed altar. I saw his reverend
form, and I secured it from insult; it was all that I could do. And
see," he added, drawing forth the well-known manuscript, "this sacred
volume was near his heart; may we hope that its truths were known and
valued there?"
"God grant it!" cried the weeping Naomi. "He had ceased to despise
them, but the Lord alone knows how far he had received them. His
soul was devoted to the service of God in sincerity and truth, and I
trust that it is now rejoicing in His presence."
"And your mother, Naomi, has she also departed from this world."
"But yesterday she was laid beneath this turf, Marcellus; I may not
mourn for her, for she died in the faith of our Lord Jesus Christ,
and her end was full of blessedness."
"The Lord be praised!" said Marcellus. "Naomi, my father will be a
father to you; and it will be my happy task to cheer your spirit,
after all that you have suffered. The night of affliction has been
very dark around you, my love; but we may hope that a joyful morning
will yet dawn forth even in this world, and that our future lives may
show our gratitude to the Lord, who has brought us through so many
trials, and permitted us at length to meet each other though in
circumstances of so much sorrow. Come, Theophilus, my long-lost
brother, we must return to the house, and take measures for its
security; and you shall tell me how it is that I see you here
alive--you who have so long been wept as dead, and mourned for by the
widowed heart of my poor sister."
Theophilus gave his friend a short relation of his preservation and
subsequent existence in the prison, and in his turn he heard from
Marcellus of all that Claudia had suffered on his account, and of her
faithful and undying affection for him. When they entered the house,
their discourse was interrupted by the sounds of violence and cries
of terror that issued from the streets. The Roman soldiers had
rushed down from the temple, and were slaying all whom they could
overtake. The houses on every side were in flames; and it was only
the presence of the troops who were stationed in the court, that had
preserved the noble dwelling of Zadok from pillage and destruction.
But the conflagration was spreading around, and ere long the fire
must reach the building. It was no longer a safe retreat for Naomi;
and Marcellus determined to convey her and Deborah, without loss of
time, beyond the walls of the city to some place of security. He
hastily prepared a litter; and having carefully concealed Naomi and
her attendant from the eyes of the now ungovernable soldiery who
paraded the streets, he caused his men to bear it towards the
water-gate, while he and Theophilus guarded it with drawn swords on
each side. It was with considerable difficulty and frequent
opposition from the excited legionaries, that they succeeded in
reaching the gate. The guards appointed to defend it had fled, and
they passed out into the desolate valley, once verdant with gardens
and orchards. When Naomi knew that she was beyond the reach of
danger, she withdrew the drapery that surrounded her, and looked
around on the scenes so familiar and so dear. All was changed; not a
vestige remained of what had been so beautiful and luxuriant, and the
red light of the burning city fell only on a barren desert. The
valley was traversed, and Marcellus with his companions reached the
Roman camp at the north of the city, as the first rays of morning
dawned on the work of destruction that had been accomplished in the
preceding night. In his father's tent he established Naomi and
Deborah; and leaving them to the care of Theophilus, he returned
again to the city, and joined his commander.
The whole Roman army encamped that day in the sacred precincts of the
temple, and planted their victorious eagles among the smoking ruins.
A sacrifice was offered to their false deities in the sanctuary of
the Lord of Hosts, and loud acclamations proclaimed the victory of
Titus. The immense value of the spoils with which each soldier was
enriched, greatly increased their joy: so vast was the amount of the
treasures they had obtained, that gold became as brass among these
soldiers. In the midst of their loud rejoicings, their attention was
attracted by the sight of a small party of priests and others on the
top of a wall to which they had escaped. For five days these
miserable beings remained in that situation, until starvation induced
them to come down and implore for mercy. Isaac, the cruel,
hard-hearted Isaac, was among them; and he entreated for life with an
abject fear that excited the scorn of the Romans. It was unavailing,
Titus would not listen to their supplications, and they were
immediately executed.
A number of the Zealots had escaped to the upper city with their
leader, and there they still defied the Romans. There were numerous
and extensive subterranean passages beneath that part of the city;
and the hopes of the insurgents rested in these for their
preservation. It would be a repetition of scenes already described
to narrate the sufferings of those who were cooped up within the
walls of Sion. All the miseries of a second siege were endured; and
it was not until the 7th of September that the Romans ascended the
wall with shouts of triumph, and rushed through the streets, slaying
and destroying as they went. But little plunder was found in this
quarter: the houses were filled with putrid bodies of whole families
who had died of hunger; and after gazing on the massy towers and
walls of which he was now the master, Titus gave orders that the
whole city should be razed to the ground and utterly destroyed,
except three towers, which were left standing as monuments of the
conquest.
The multitude of prisoners was embarrassing to the conquerors; and
after a selection had been made of the tallest and most
powerful-looking of the insurgents, to grace the triumphal return of
Titus to the capital, a vast number of these rebels were put to
death. The old and infirm, both of men and women, shared the same
fate; and of the rest of the prisoners, many thousands were sent to
the mines in various parts of the empire, or distributed among the
provinces to fight as gladiators for the amusement of the populace.
The number of the captives amounted to ninety-seven thousand; of
those who were slain or died of famine throughout the siege the
number has been computed at no less than our million one hundred
thousand!
Still the chief objects of search to the Roman soldiers, and those on
whom they especially thirsted to glut their vengeance, seemed to
elude their pursuit. Neither John of Gischala nor the son of Gioras
was to be found amid the ruins of the city. John had sought refuge
in the subterranean caverns, with a multitude of his adherents. The
Romans discovered the entrance to some of these caves, and
endeavoured to penetrate them, but the pestilential effluvia that
proceeded from the putrid corpses that choked the passages drove them
back. At length John, and his brothers who had followed him to his
retreat, came forth, reduced by starvation, and surrendered to the
victors on a promise of mercy. This promise was performed, and the
atrocious John was spared, but condemned to perpetual imprisonment.
It was supposed that Simon had expired in one of the caverns, and the
search was suspended. Titus prepared to leave the ruined city, and
Marcellus rejoiced that at length he might remove his beloved Naomi
from a scene where every object that met her view was a memorial of
former happiness and recent calamity. The fate of her brother
weighed heavily on her mind; there was no hope of his being yet
alive; but every search that Marcellus had caused to be made for his
body had proved ineffectual, and Naomi was forced to leave the place
in uncertainty whether he had perished or been sent off to the
provinces as a captive. She was treated by Rufus with the kindest
attention, and everything was done by those around her to reconcile
her to her situation; but her heart had been too severely wounded to
recover its natural strength and elasticity thus early. She had much
to lament, as well as much to be grateful for; and Marcellus did not
love her less because she was frequently so much absorbed in her
melancholy reflections as to be insensible even to the pleasure of
his society. She remained entirely secluded with Deborah in Rufus's
tent, or travelled, concealed in a litter, until the army arrived at
Cæsarea, on the coast, where Titus paused for some time before he
proceeded to Cæsarea Philippi. Marcellus then applied for leave of
absence for himself and his father, that they might escort Naomi to
her friends at Ephesus, and the permission was readily obtained.
Happily a vessel was in the port, bound for Ephesus, and in this they
all embarked, and sailed away from the desolated land of Judea,
towards the spot where Naomi and Theophilus hoped to meet all their
surviving relatives, and to be once more united to those so dear to
them both.
After their departure a messenger arrived at Cæsarea from the ruined
metropolis, with intelligence that Simon and one of his officers had
been discovered. A party of the Roman soldiers who were left
encamped in the ruined city had been startled one day as they were
reposing amid the blackened and tottering walls of the temple, by
seeing a man of dignified appearance, and clothed in a rich robe of
purple, over a white garment, rise suddenly among them, as if from
the earth. At the first moment their superstitious fears led them to
believe that it was a spectre, but on their demanding the name of the
apparition, he replied, "Simon, the son of Gioras."
He had descended a secret passage on the total defeat of his party,
and with several others had remained concealed ever since that time.
The provisions which they had taken with them had failed, and none of
his companions remained alive except Javan, who followed his chief
from their retreat, and they both surrendered themselves into the
hands of Terentius Rufus, who held the command of the troops
remaining at Jerusalem. Simon had hoped to overawe the guard by his
sudden and mysterious appearance, and thus to effect his escape; but
in this hope he was disappointed and found himself a captive in the
hands of his enemies. This news was most welcome to Titus, and he
dispatched immediate orders that the son of Gioras should be sent
with his comrade to join him at Cæsarea, and assist to swell the
honour of his triumph.
The domes and pinnacles of Diana's far-famed temple were glowing in
the ruddy beams of the setting sun, when the white sails of a vessel
were descried from the watch-towers of Ephesus, bearing swiftly and
steadily towards the port. It was known by the signals hoisted from
the masthead to be a merchant-ship returning from Syria, and numbers
of the inhabitants of the city assembled on the quays and the banks
of the river to witness the arrival of the goodly vessel, and hear
from the passengers the latest intelligence of the war in Judea.
Among those who waited most anxiously for the approach of the ship to
the landing-place, were Amaziah and his wife, with their adopted
daughter Claudia. They hoped to receive some communication from
their beloved friends in Jerusalem, or at least a letter from
Marcellus, telling of the state of the metropolis. Possibly some of
their countrymen might have escaped from the beleaguered city, and
from them they should hear of the welfare of those so deeply
interesting to them all.
A favourable breeze filled the sails of the vessel, and it cut
through the yielding waters with the grace and rapidity of a
water-bird, and yet the motion seemed too slow for the anxious
impatience of the Jewish exiles. They wandered to and fro along the
margin of the river, to the point of land where the broad stream fell
into the bosom of the ocean, and again returned to the landing-place.
The daylight died away before the ship had entered the mouth of the
river, and ere it reached the quay its tall mast and lofty prow could
hardly be distinguished in the increasing darkness. But lights were
hoisted from the rigging, and gleamed on the crowded deck, and the
rush of the parting waters told that the noble bark was coming
gallantly against the stream. Many torches were brought down to the
shore, and their waving and flickering light fell on the anxious and
strongly-marked Jewish features of Amaziah and Judith, and the fairer
countenance of their young companion. The anchor was cast out, the
ropes were thrown on shore, and the vessel lay steadily against the
marble steps of the quay. What voice was that so wild and shrill
that sounded from the shore above all the murmuring of the assembled
crowd? That pale and delicate girl who stood by the side of Amaziah,
and leant upon his arm, had cast her tearful eyes upon the deck of
the vessel, and in the midst of the groups of passengers she had
discerned a form that seemed the vision of one long dead and deeply
mourned.
She clung to the arm of Amaziah, and pointed convulsively to the
deck, while her large blue eyes were dilated with astonishment and
fear, and her parted lips refused to utter the name so dear and so
familiar to them. Judith and her husband looked in vain for the
cause of Claudia's agitation. The form which had conjured up such
wild emotions had disappeared among the crowd, and gradually she
became convinced that it had been a creature of her imagination, and
that the image for ever present to her heart had caused the startling
fancy. Her extended hand fell down again, and with a deep drawn and
shivering sigh she faintly whispered,--
"Oh, it was a blissful, but a cruel deception!"
"What was it, my child?" asked Judith. "Did you see any countenance
that recalled the memory of the friends we left in Judea?"
"Yes, mother, yes; I thought I saw those features that haunt my
sleeping hours, and seem to smile upon from the skies by day. They
looked more like those of a living man than the angelic face that
visits my dreams, and my foolish heart was startled. But ah! it is
there again! Look, Judith, look at the side of the vessel;--and
another form is there! O God of mercy, let not my bewildered brain
thus mock me with such fancies! They come--they come on! They have
stepped upon the quay! Oh, those are no forms of air. Take me,
Amaziah, take me to meet them, and let me find it true, or die!"
Judith and Amaziah were hardly less agitated than their companion.
They likewise saw the figures that passed from the deck to the shore,
and they likewise knew not how to trust their eyes. But the
breathless suspense soon terminated in a blissful reality, and they
embraced the living forms of their lamented son and their beloved
Naomi. It would be vain to attempt to paint the feelings of that
group, whose hearts were filled to overflowing with so many and
powerful emotions. It was not for some moments that the presence of
Marcellus and his father was perceived, but then they were warmly and
joyfully greeted; and then came the inquiries after Zadok and Salome,
who were supposed to have sent away their daughter, and to have
remained themselves to witness the fate of their country. Rufus
quickly replied, and silenced all further questions; while the tears
of Naomi plainly told that she had not abandoned her native land
until she was a lonely orphan.
The house which Amaziah occupied was not far distant from the banks
of the river; and when the party so unexpectedly united were
assembled in the pillared verandah, many hours were passed in sweet
discourse though deeply tinged with melancholy recollections, and
recitals of sufferings and trials that never could be effaced from
the heart. But hope, and faith, and resignation shed their happy
influence over that family group, and deep gratitude was seated in
every heart, for the mercies that were so bountifully mingled with
their afflictions. Rufus was a heathen amid a family of Christians.
Would he remain hardened in idolatry when he saw the blessed fruits
of a purer religion so beautifully displayed around him?
Some weeks had elapsed since the arrival of the merchant-ship, and
the bitterness of Naomi's feelings had begun in some measure to
subside, when Rufus announced that he could no longer tarry at
Ephesus, but must take advantage of a ship which he found was shortly
to sail for Rome, and return to the capital to meet Titus, and share
in the glories of his triumphant entry. Marcellus had obtained
permission to absent himself, and he gladly relinquished his share in
the honours of the magnificent but somewhat barbarous ceremony that
was expected. He however urgently joined in the request of his
father, that Naomi would consent to their marriage taking place
before the departure of the latter, and that the union of Claudia and
Theophilus might be celebrated at the same time. Naomi's heart was
still too much oppressed with the remembrance of the sad scenes she
had so recently witnessed, to enable her to feel that it was a time
for the accomplishment of all her hopes of earthly happiness; but she
yielded to the solicitations of all her friends, and an early day was
fixed for the nuptials. The benediction was pronounced on the two
young couples in the church consecrated to the service of Christ; and
the hands of the venerable Christian bishop were laid on their heads
as they knelt devoutly before the altar. Many of the Ephesian
converts and exiled disciples from Judea were present at the sacred
ceremony; and all were deeply interested in the two lovely maidens
who after so much suffering and so many heavy trials, which they had
borne with exemplary fortitude, at length were rewarded with as much
of happiness as they could hope to possess on earth.
Rufus took leave of his children and departed for Rome, with a
promise that he would return to visit them at Ephesus, when his
presence was no longer required with the army. This promise he was
unable to fulfil until the following spring, when once again he
joined the happy family--and this time he did not come alone. He was
accompanied by a man, who, though still young in years, bore the deep
furrows of toil and suffering, and uncontrolled passions, on his pale
cheek and lofty brow. That brow wore less of pride, and those dark
eyes glanced less fiercely than they were wont to do, for captivity
and disappointed hopes had humbled the heart that once burned with
ambition, and beat with a thirst for vengeance. Tears of softened
and natural feeling flowed down his cheeks as he clasped Naomi in his
arms and extended his hand to her husband and to Theophilus. It was
Javan. Rufus had found him in slavery at Rome, and with a generosity
that was worthy of a Christian, he had forgotten all past injuries,
and redeemed the proud young Pharisee from the servitude that galled
his spirit. The chastisements of the Lord had not been altogether
thrown away upon him. He never forgot his native land, or ceased to
mourn her degradation; but it was not with the wrathful bitterness
that once preyed on his heart; for he learned to regard her
afflictions as the just retribution of her crimes, and to look for
her restitution to glory when that Jesus whose name he had so often
blasphemed, shall come in the clouds of heaven, with all his holy
angels, to sit on the throne of David, and reign over his people for
ever.
THE END.
BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.