THE CAVE OF ELIJAH
Anne Whiteside was sitting in her own room, absorbed in thought, whilst
near by, in his little white bed, lay her sleeping boy. Raie’s words had
sunk deep into her mind—so deep that she could think of nothing else.
Had she been told of such a cave in England she would probably have
considered it unworthy her attention, but here in Palestine the
conditions were entirely of another kind. She remembered the story of
the pool of Bethesda, where the great multitude of impotent folk waited
for the moving of the water; and to her it seemed quite as likely for a
miracle to happen in a cave as in a pool. Moreover, the very soil of
Palestine was sacred, and more associated with divine interposition than
any country in the world, so that it seemed to lend itself to the
miraculous as a matter of course.
“With God all things are possible,” she said to herself. “The arm of the
Lord is not shortened.” The physicians were unable to cure the lad, and
had pronounced his case hopeless; but surely no case was beyond the
power of the Great Physician? She was determined to have faith.
The boy awoke, and blinking sleepily at the light, glanced at his
grandmother, but no ray of intelligence crossed his face. He knew her,
of course—he would take his food at the hands of no one else; but he
showed no sign of recognition, and gazed vacantly into space. Anne moved
the lamp in order to prevent the glare from hurting his eyes, then
fetched him a glass of fresh cocoanut milk. He drank it greedily, and
asked for more, but the old nurse thought he had had sufficient, and
coaxed him to try and sleep.
Sitting by the bed, she sang a crooning little melody, such as might be
used to lull a baby in a cradle, whilst her fingers busily plied a pair
of woollen socks. There was no sound to break the stillness but that of
her own voice, yet she was quite oblivious of the gentle lifting of the
latch. A sudden shadow on the opposite wall, however, caused her to look
up suddenly, and without any sense of surprise she discovered a swarthy
Arab at her side.
“Mustaph!” she exclaimed, putting down her needles in haste. “You have
come from the Princess? What does her Highness say?”
For answer he produced a note from the folds of his inner garment and
handed it with a bow. The nurse took it with trembling fingers and broke
the seal. Then she adjusted her spectacles and turned towards the light.
Mustaph complacently squatted on the floor.
“_I think your project considerably fraught with risk both to the boy
and yourself_,” it ran; “_but if you are determined to venture, I will
not deter you. To-morrow will be a good opportunity on account of the
full moon, and my carriage will be at your disposal. Be ready an hour
and a half before sunset, when one of my servants shall call. Please
inform Mustaph if this arrangement is satisfactory, or if you have
changed your mind. Personally, I should advise you to leave well alone
rather than be guided by a Mohammedan superstition._
_O. von Felsen-Schvoenig._”
To read and digest the note took some little time; but the Arabs are
never in a hurry, and Mustaph waited with calm patience. Anne sank on to
a chair, with her back to the man and her elbows resting on the pillows
of the bed. ‘To be, or not to be?’ that was the question which sent a
thrill of agitation through her being. Whether it were better for Tom to
remain as he was—a helpless imbecile—or to undergo the chance of being
cured. Cured! The very word set all her pulses throbbing, and made the
blood course rapidly through her veins. To have his intellect restored,
to be clothed and in his right mind, like the demoniac of old, to be a
help and a comfort instead of the burden he ever remained! For she knew
he was a burden, in spite of the assurances she always gave herself to
the contrary. His condition necessitated more attention than she was
ever able to give him, even though he was watched by some obliging
friend when she was away. Cured! As in a vision she saw him growing up
beside her, his form no longer delicate and shrunken, but strong and
stalwart with the vigour of youth; his face glowing with intelligence
instead of that vacant expression which seemed to cleave her heart in
twain. If he were but healthy like other boys, her life would be a very
paradise on earth, for it but needed this to complete her happiness. A
mist rose before her eyes as she gazed at the poor old-young face, the
large forehead which betokened not intellect but idiocy, the heavy
eyelids closed in sleep.
“Oh, Christ, dear Lord, help me!” she whispered, clasping her hands in
an agony of indecision. She knew not what to do for the best.
Mustaph, noticing her agitation, rose from the floor and approached with
wonder.
“_Malaish!_” he exclaimed, using the Arab term of condolence. “What
matter? _Mafîsh._ There is nothing.”
“The cave,” she said, raising her head. “The Cave of Elijah. You have
been there. Is it true that people are cured?”
He stared at her interrogatively, scarcely understanding her words.
“_Fen_—where? The cave? Boy go? _Haiwa._ Yes, varry good.”
Then he nodded vigorously, meaning to say that he knew all about it now.
“Tell her Highness I have made up my mind to try with Tom,” Anne said,
deciding suddenly. “I will be ready at the time she says—before sunset.
But I suppose I had better write it.”
And finding a pencil, she scribbled the message on the reverse side of
the Princess’s note. She felt as if she had cast the die.
Nodding and smiling, the Arab departed, and she was left to herself
again. The boy was still asleep, with a look almost of babyhood on his
face. If he suffered in any way by his visit to the cave she was certain
she would never forgive herself; but the temptation to make the trial
was too great to be passed by.
“You will be cured, Tom!” she exclaimed softly, as she bent down and
kissed him on the forehead. “I know you will; I can feel it in my heart.
No more weary hours, no more pain, dearest. Oh, to see you no longer
suffering! ’Tis worth the trial of faith!”
She paced the room, scarcely able to contain her deeply-stirred
emotions, and without the least inclination for rest. And when she did
go to bed, sleep refused to come, so that she tossed the whole night
through, and longed for daylight. But she was up again at the usual
early hour, and fulfilled her duties with no lack of energy. Fearing to
receive discouragement, she did not inform the Montellas of her
intention to put the matter to the test that night, and only the
Princess, to whom she had rendered some service in Haifa, was in the
secret. Punctual to the appointed time the car appeared before her door,
with two servants in attendance, and fortunately there were few people
about to wonder at its coming. Anne’s heart beat fast as she placed the
lad in the most comfortable seat, and took up her position beside him.
The cee-spring and thick rubber tires on the wheels of the vehicle
minimised the jolting, which would otherwise have rendered the drive
more or less unpleasant, and the white awning served to protect the
occupants from the glare of the sun. Occasionally a string of
soft-treading camels passed them, their sweetly-sounding bells
announcing their approach; or the peasant-women in their picturesque
blue robes would stand and stare at them, perhaps in the hope of selling
some of the milk which they carried in pans on their heads. The road on
the mountain side lay between rich and beautiful vineyards, and as they
ascended a glorious view expanded before their gaze. Northwards sparkled
the waters of the bay, across which, at a distance of about twelve
miles, lay Akka, once in the coasts of the Gentiles, but now a Jewish
town. Eastwards rose the hills of Galilee, whose undulating ranges
overlooked Nazareth, Cana, and the Sacred Lake; and far away in the
distance towered the snowy cap of Hermon, like the only cloud in a clear
sky. Around them was spread the rich flora of the Carmel ridge, with
occasional Druze villages nestling on its slopes; and close at hand the
happy twittering of the birds fell on the fragrant air. Anne drew a deep
breath of enjoyment, feeling that here—so close to the scene of Elijah’s
victory over the prophets of Baal—nothing was impossible. The very
atmosphere seemed charged with the miraculous, the Oriental colouring
bridged over the distance from that time of old. It was the first time
she had been any distance from the town, the first time that she was
able to realise that this was in truth the land of the Bible; and the
fascination of it all crept over her spirit—that peculiar spell of the
Holy Land.
The Princess was waiting for them when they arrived at the hotel. It was
characteristic of her to treat her inferiors with as much deference as
her equals, and since the nurse had obtained the promise of this favour,
she would not stint the measure of her goodwill. A substantial repast
had been prepared for them in her private sitting-room; and with her own
hands she ministered to their wants. Yet if at home in Felsen-Schvoenig
her husband had asked for such an attention, she would have replied that
she was not a serving-maid. She was indeed a mixture of perversity, but
a sweet woman withal.
“Tom does not look so well to-day,” she observed, as she coaxed him to
eat. “Do you think the journey has been too much for him, Anne?”
Anne was not sure, but she thought he must have benefited by the lovely
drive.
“If your Highness will allow me to feed him, I think he will get on
better,” she suggested cheerfully, and held the spoon to his lips as
though he had been a child.
The meal over, they re-entered the little carriage, and prepared to
start for the wonderful cave. Standing under the stone portico, the
Princess wished them farewell.
“I shall think of you to-night,” she said, with a smile of
encouragement. “I hope the cure will work.”
“If God will,” was the nurse’s rejoinder. “I thank your Highness for the
great help you have given me.”
But the Princess would not receive her gratitude.
“I will send the carriage for you at dawn,” she called out, as the
coachman took up the reins; and then again wishing luck to the venture,
she disappeared from view.
The cave, which was formed out of the limestone of which the mountain
was composed, was reached shortly after leaving the hotel. A chapel had
been built there to commemorate the place, but it had been done away
with when the Jews came into possession, and now there existed nothing
to distinguish it from other caves. Coming into it from the open air, it
seemed to exhale an atmosphere of warm humidity, and the walls, when
Anne felt them, were quite damp. Mustaph had brought with him a lamp,
some warm blankets, and a small folding-chair, but in spite of these
commodities, the place scarcely promised to be a comfortable one in
which to spend the night. The shadows gathered as they made their
preparations, and the nurse shivered, though scarcely with cold. Even
Tom, who scarcely ever displayed an emotion of any kind, seemed
frightened, and at first refused to lie down in the strange floor-bed
allotted to him. At sunset Mustaph took off his shoes, spread his mat,
and said his prayers in approved Mohammedan fashion, after which he took
up his position on guard at the mouth of the cave. The lighted lamp
brought with it a homely ray of comfort, but it was too small to
adequately illumine the cavern, and the corners were dark and black.
Amidst such eerie surroundings, Anne would not have been surprised at
any apparition or supernatural manifestation, and as the time wore on,
she worked herself up to an intense pitch of excitement. Tom lay awake
for several hours with wide-open, frightened eyes, his hands clutching
tightly at the counterpane, whilst in his own way he expressed his
disapproval and fear. At last, however, his hands unclosed and his
features relaxed, and closing his eyes wearily, he dropped off to sleep.
Anne heaved a trembling sigh as she sank on to her knees at his side.
Who could tell what would have happened by the time he awoke again?
Crossing her hands on her breast to still the rapid beating of her
heart, she sent up a passionate entreaty to Heaven to grant her prayers
for the boy. What would she not do to show her gratitude if only he were
cured of his disease! How devoted her life would be to the Most High
henceforth! She was not the first soul who has presumed to bribe the
Almighty when in distress: it is a common human instinct to think that
we can gain a divine benefaction by promising to do something great and
magnanimous in return.
The silence was intense, but suddenly it was broken by a weird and
melancholy sound. The nurse started in affright, wondering from whence
it came, and listened with distended eyes. Moving towards the entrance,
she called to Mustaph, who was endeavouring to rouse himself from sleep,
whilst the sound continued, just like a cry of woe.
“A jackal,” the Arab replied imperturbably. “_Malaish_—never mind. I
tell him _imshi_—be off! _La!_ no. He not come here. Ma’am not be
afraid. He only howl.”
Anne was thankful to hear the sound of a human voice.
“I wish the night were over,” she said, with a sigh. “Tom is fast
asleep. Are you sure we have done everything properly? I am so anxious.
I cannot sleep.”
Mustaph suppressed a yawn.
“Allah is good!” he exclaimed wearily. “Ma’am must sleep, or else Elijah
not come. To stay awake is _harâm_—forbidden. I tell jackal _imshi_.
Ma’am sleep.”
So Anne returned to the interior of the cave, and wrapping herself in a
blanket, tried to fulfil the command. The howling and whimpering of the
jackals continued for some time, but she covered her ears, and did her
best to shut out the sound. She was, indeed, very tired, and since it
was necessary that she should sleep, she was determined not to keep
awake. Gradually she lost consciousness, until the cheerless cave
entirely disappeared, to be replaced by a phantomatic but more happy
slumberland. The night wore on, but nothing happened to disturb her
dreams, and she slept right on until a strip of light in the east
heralded the dawn. Then she awoke with a start to find her two
companions still asleep, the Arab in his place at the mouth of the cave.
Pulling herself together, she rose and stretched wearily, and then bent
over her beloved grandchild. He was lying in the same position, but so
still that he might have been a waxen figure instead of a human boy.
With an indefinable sense of alarm she knelt down beside him, and
scarcely knowing what she was doing, felt his heart and his wrist. Then
a low cry of anguish echoed and re-echoed through the silence of the
cavern—the cry of a broken-hearted woman.
For the light of her life had been extinguished—the boy was quite dead!
She remained in her kneeling position, totally stunned. It was possible
that lying on the floor the damp vapours had poisoned him, but it did
not occur to her yet to seek the cause; it mattered not how he died,
since there was no hope of his instantaneous resurrection. But while she
knelt, her eyes blinded with tears, there appeared before her mind’s eye
something which was almost akin to a vision. The cave in which she had
slept for so many hours became the rock-hewn sepulchre of Mary and
Martha’s brother, and in fancy she heard the sweet but authoritative
Voice: “_Lazarus, come forth!_” Oh, that that same Voice might utter the
command over the inanimate figure of her boy! But no, that Voice spake
no longer, save in the souls of men. Of a different nature, though no
less potent, were the miracles of to-day.
“_‘He asked life of Thee, and Thou gavest it him, even length of days
for ever and ever’!_” she quoted, in a whisper, as her lips touched the
ice-cold forehead of the lad. She had prayed that he might be cured,
that he might spend no more weary hours, and have no more pain. Ought
she not to be happy since God in His own way had cured the child?
Certain it was that for him there would be no more suffering and
weariness. “_‘Even length of days for ever and ever’!_” she repeated, as
she went to inform the Arab.
She was no longer sorrowful. The boy was cured at last!