One day, after the midday meal, John said:
"Mary, Raphael and his brother have taken the big boat, and gone
off with fish to Tiberias; and have told me that I can take the
small boat, if I will. Ask my mother to let you off your task, and
come out with me. It is a fortnight since we had a row on the lake,
together."
"I was beginning to think that you were never going to ask me
again, John; and, only I should punish myself, I would say you nay.
There have you been, going out fishing every afternoon, and leaving
me at home to spin; and it is all the worse because your mother has
said that the time is fast coming when I must give up wandering
about like a child, and must behave myself like a woman.
"Oh, dear, how tiresome it will be when there will be nothing to do
but to sit and spin, and to look after the house, and to walk
instead of running when I am out, and to behave like a grown-up
person, altogether!"
"You are almost grown up," John said; "you are taller, now, than
any of the maids except Zillah; but I shall be sorry to see you
growing staid and solemn. And it was selfish of me not to ask you
to go out before, but I really did not think of it. The fishermen
have been working hard, to make up for the time lost during the
harvest; and I have really been useful, helping them with their
nets, and this is the last year I shall have my liberty.
"But come, don't let's be wasting time in talking; run in and get
my mother's permission, and then join me on the shore. I will take
some grapes down, for you to eat; for the sun is hot today, and
there is scarce a breath of wind on the water."
A few minutes later, the young pair stood together by the side of
the boat.
"Your mother made all sorts of objections," Mary said, laughing,
"and I do think she won't let me come again. I don't think she
would have done it, today, if Miriam had not stood up for me, and
said that I was but a child though I was so tall; and that, as you
were very soon going to work with your father, she thought that it
was no use in making the change before that."
"What nonsense it all is!" John said. "Besides, you know it is
arranged that, in a few months, we are to be betrothed according to
the wishes of your parents and mine. It would have been done, long
ago, only my father and mother do not approve of young betrothals;
and think it better to wait, to see if the young ones like each
other; and I think that is quite right, too, in most cases--only,
of course, living here, as you have done for the last three
years--since your father and mother died--there was no fear of our
not liking each other."
"Well, you see," Mary said, as she sat in the stern of the boat,
while John rowed it quietly along, "it might have been just the
other way. When people don't see anything of each other, till they
are betrothed by their parents, they can't dislike each other very
much; whereas, when they get to know each other, if they are
disagreeable they might get to almost hate each other."
"Yes, there is something in that," John agreed. "Of course, in our
case it is all right, because we do like each other--we couldn't
have liked each other more, I think, if we had been brother and
sister--but it seems to me that, sometimes, it must be horrid when
a boy is told by his parents that he is to be betrothed to a girl
he has never seen. You see it isn't as if it were for a short time,
but for all one's life. It must be awful!"
"Awful!" Mary agreed, heartily; "but of course, it would have to be
done."
"Of course," John said--the possibility of a lad refusing to obey
his parents' commands not even occurring to him. "Still it doesn't
seem to me quite right that one should have no choice, in so
important a matter. Of course, when one's got a father and mother
like mine--who would be sure to think only of making me happy, and
not of the amount of dowry, or anything of that sort--it would be
all right; but with some parents, it would be dreadful."
For some time, not a word was spoken; both of them meditating over
the unpleasantness of being forced to marry someone they disliked.
Then, finding the subject too difficult for them, they began to
talk about other things; stopping, sometimes, to see the fishermen
haul up their nets, for there were a number of boats out on the
lake. They rowed down as far as Tiberias and, there, John ceased
rowing; and they sat chatting over the wealth and beauty of that
city, which John had often visited with his father, but which Mary
had never entered.
Then John turned the head of the boat up the lake and again began
to row but, scarcely had he dipped his oar into the water, when he
exclaimed:
"Look at that black cloud rising, at the other end of the lake! Why
did you not tell me, Mary?"
"How stupid of me," she exclaimed, "not to have kept my eyes open!"
He bent to his oars, and made the boat move through the water at a
very different rate to that at which she had before traveled.
"Most of the boats have gone," Mary said, presently, "and the rest
are all rowing to the shore; and the clouds are coming up very
fast," she added, looking round.
"We are going to have a storm," John said. "It will be upon us long
before we get back. I shall make for the shore, Mary. We must leave
the boat there, and take shelter for a while, and then walk home.
It will not be more than four miles to walk."
But though he spoke cheerfully, John knew enough of the sudden
storms that burst upon the Sea of Galilee to be aware that, long
before he could cross the mile and a half of water, which separated
them from the eastern shore, the storm would be upon them; and
indeed, they were not more than half way when it burst.
The sky was already covered with black clouds. A great darkness
gathered round them; then came a heavy downpour of rain; and then,
with a sudden burst, the wind smote them. It was useless, now, to
try to row, for the oars would have been twisted from his hands in
a moment; and John took the helm, and told Mary to lie down in the
bottom of the boat. He had already turned the boat's head up the
lake, the direction in which the storm was traveling.
The boat sprang forward, as if it had received a blow, when the
gale struck it. John had, more than once, been out on the lake with
the fishermen, when sudden storms had come up; and knew what was
best to be done. When he had laid in his oars, he had put them so
that the blades stood partly up above the bow, and caught the wind
somewhat; and he, himself, crouched down in the bottom, with his
head below the gunwale and his hand on the tiller; so that the
tendency of the boat was to drive straight before the wind. With a
strong crew, he knew that he could have rowed obliquely towards the
shore but, alone, his strength could have done nothing to keep the
heavy boat off her course.
The sea rose, as if by magic, and the spray was soon dashing over
them; each wave, as it followed the boat, rising higher and higher.
The shores were no longer visible; and the crests of the waves
seemed to gleam, with a pallid light, in the darkness which
surrounded them. John sat quietly in the bottom of the boat, with
one hand on the tiller and the other arm round Mary, who was
crouched up against him. She had made no cry, or exclamation, from
the moment the gale struck them.
Illustration: On the Sea of Galilee.
"Are we getting near shore?" she asked, at last.
"No, Mary; we are running straight before the wind, which is
blowing right up the lake. There is nothing to be done but to keep
straight before it."
Mary had seen many storms on the lake, and knew into what a fury
its waters were lashed, in a tempest such as was now upon them.
"We are in God's hands, John," she said, with the quiet resignation
of her race. "He can save us, if He will. Let us pray to him."
John nodded and, for a few minutes, no word was spoken.
"Can I do anything?" Mary asked, presently, as a wave struck the
stern, and threw a mass of water into the boat.
"Yes," John replied; "take that earthen pot, and bale out the
water."
John had no great hope that they would live through the gale, but
he thought it better for the girl to be kept busily employed. She
bailed steadily but, fast as she worked, the water came in faster;
for each wave, as it swept past them, broke on board. So rapidly
were they traveling that John had the greatest difficulty in
keeping the boat from broaching to--in which case the following
wave would have filled, or overturned, her.
"I don't think it's any use, John," Mary said, quietly, as a great
wave broke on board; pouring in as much water, in a second, as she
could have baled out in ten minutes.
"No use, dear. Sit quietly by me but, first, pull those oars aft.
Now, tie them together with that piece of rope. Now, when the boat
goes down, keep tight hold of them.
"Cut off another piece of rope, and give it me. When we are in the
water, I will fasten you to the oars. They will keep you afloat,
easily enough. I will keep close to you. You know I am a good
swimmer and, whenever I feel tired, I can rest my hands on the
oars, too.
"Keep up your courage, and keep as quiet as you can. These sudden
storms seldom last long; and my father will be sure to get the
boats out, as soon as he can, to look for us."
John spoke cheerfully, but he had no great hopes of their being
able to live in so rough a sea. Mary had still less, but she
quietly carried out John's instructions. The boat was half-full of
water, now, and rose but heavily upon the waves.
John raised himself and looked round; in hopes that the wind might,
unnoticed, have shifted a little and blown them towards the shore.
As he glanced around, him he gave a shout. Following almost in
their track, and some fifty yards away, was a large galley; running
before the wind, with a rag of sail set on its mast.
"We are saved, Mary!" he exclaimed. "Here is a galley, close to
us."
He shouted loudly, though he knew that his voice could not be
heard, many yards away, in the teeth of the gale but, almost
directly, he saw two or three men stand up in the bow of the
galley. One was pointing towards them, and he saw that they were
seen.
In another minute the galley came sweeping along, close to the
boat. A dozen figures appeared over her side, and two or three
ropes were thrown. John caught one, twisted it rapidly round Mary's
body and his own, knotted it and, taking her in his arms, jumped
overboard. Another minute they were drawn alongside the galley, and
pulled on board. As soon as the ropes were unfastened, John rose to
his feet; but Mary lay, insensible, on the deck.
"Carry the damsel into the cabin," a man, who was evidently in
authority said. "She has fainted, but will soon come round. I will
see to her, myself."
The suddenness of the rescue, the plunge in the water, and the
sudden revulsion of his feelings affected John so much that it was
two or three minutes before he could speak.
"Come along with me, lad," one of the sailors said, laying his hand
on his shoulder. "Some dry clothes, and a draught of wine will set
you all right again; but you have had a narrow escape of it. That
boat of yours was pretty nearly water logged and, in another five
minutes, we should have been too late."
John hastily changed his clothes in the forecastle, took a draught
of wine, and then hurried back again towards the aft cabin. Just as
he reached it, the man who had ordered Mary to be carried in came
out.
"The damsel has opened her eyes," he said, "and you need not be
uneasy about her. I have given her some woolen cloths, and bade her
take off her wet garments, and wrap herself in them.
"Why did you not make for the shore, before the tempest broke? It
was foolish of you, indeed, to be out on the lake, when anyone
could see that this gale was coming."
"I was rowing down, and did not notice it until I turned," John
replied. "I was making for the shore, when the gale struck her."
"It was well, for you, that I noticed you. I was, myself, thinking
of making for the shore although, in so large and well-manned craft
as this, there is little fear upon the lake. It is not like the
Great Sea; where I, myself, have seen a large ship as helpless,
before the waves, as that small boat we picked you from.
"I had just set out from Tiberias, when I marked the storm coming
up; but my business was urgent and, moreover, I marked your little
boat, and saw that you were not likely to gain the shore; so I bade
the helmsman keep his eye on you, until the darkness fell upon us;
and then to follow straight in your wake, for you could but run
before the wind--and well he did it for, when we first caught sight
of you, you were right ahead of us."
The speaker was a man of about thirty years of age; tall, and with
a certain air of command.
"I thank you, indeed, sir," John said, "for saving my life; and
that of my cousin Mary, the daughter of my father's brother. Truly,
my father and mother will be grateful to you, for having saved us;
for I am their only son.
"Whom are they to thank for our rescue?"
"I am Joseph, the son of Matthias, to whom the Jews have intrusted
the governorship of this province."
"Josephus!" John exclaimed, in a tone of surprise and reverence.
"So men call me," Josephus replied, with a smile.
It was, indeed, the governor. Flavius Josephus, as the Romans
afterwards called him, came of a noble Jewish family--his father,
Matthias, belonging to the highest of the twenty-four classes into
which the sacerdotal families were divided. Matthias was eminent
for his attainments, and piety; and had been one of the leading men
in Jerusalem. From his youth, Josephus had carefully prepared
himself for public life, mastering the doctrines of the three
leading sects among the Jews--the Pharisees, Sadducees, and
Essenes--and having spent three years in the desert, with Banus the
Ascetic. The fact that, at only twenty-six years of age, he had
gone as the leader of a deputation to Rome, on behalf of some
priests sent there by Felix, shows that he was early looked upon as
a conspicuous person among the Jews; and he was but thirty when he
was intrusted with the important position of Governor of Galilee.
Contrary to the custom of the times, he had sought to make no gain
from his position. He accepted neither presents, nor bribes; but
devoted himself entirely to ameliorating the condition of the
people, and in repressing the turbulence of the lower classes of
the great towns; and of the robber chieftains who, like John of
Gischala, took advantage of the relaxation of authority, caused by
the successful rising against the Romans, to plunder and tyrannize
over the people.
The expression of the face of Josephus was lofty and, at the same
time, gentle. His temper was singularly equable and, whatever the
circumstances, he never gave way to anger, but kept his passions
well under control. His address was soft and winning, and he had
the art of attracting respect and friendship from all who came in
contact with him. Poppaea, the wife of Nero, had received him with
much favor and, bravely as he fought against them, Vespasian and
Titus were, afterwards, as much attached to him as were the Jews of
Galilee. There can be no doubt that, had he been otherwise placed
than as one of a people on the verge of destruction, Josephus would
have been one of the great figures of history.
John had been accustomed to hear his father and his friends speak
in tones of such admiration for Josephus, as the man who was
regarded not only as the benefactor of the Jews of Galilee, but as
the leader and mainstay of the nation, that he had long ardently
desired to see him; and to find that he had now been rescued from
death by him, and that he was now talking to him face to face,
filled him with confusion.
"You are a brave lad," Josephus said, "for you kept your head well,
in a time when older men might have lost their presence of mind.
You must have kept your boat dead before the wind; and you were
quick and ready, in seizing the rope and knotting it round
yourself, and the maid with you. I feared you might try and fasten
it to the boat. If you had, full of water as she was, and fast as
we were sailing before the wind, the rope would barely have stood
the strain."
"The clouds are breaking," the captain of the boat said, coming up
to Josephus, "and I think that we are past the worst of the gale.
And well it is so for, even in so staunch a craft, there is much
peril in such a sea as this."
The vessel, although one of the largest on the lake, was indeed
pitching and rolling very heavily; but she was light and buoyant
and, each time that she plunged bows under, as the following waves
lifted her stern high in the air, she rose lightly again; and
scarce a drop fell into her deep waist, the lofty erections, fore
and aft, throwing off the water.
"Where do you belong, my lad?" Josephus asked. "I fear that it is
impossible for us to put you ashore, until we reach Capernaum; but
once there, I will see that you are provided with means to take you
home."
"Our farm lies three miles above Hippos."
"That is unfortunate," Josephus said, "since it lies on the
opposite side of the lake to Capernaum. However, we shall see. If
the storm goes down rapidly, I may be able to get a fishing boat to
take you across, this evening; for your parents will be in sore
trouble. If not, you must wait till early morning."
In another hour they reached Capernaum. The wind had, by this time,
greatly abated; although the sea still ran high. The ship was soon
alongside a landing jetty, which ran out a considerable distance,
and formed a breakwater protecting the shipping from the heavy sea
which broke there when the wind was, as at present, from the south.
Mary came out from the cabin, as the vessel entered the harbor,
wrapped up from head to foot in the woolen cloths with which she
had been furnished. John sprang to her side.
"Are you quite well, Mary?"
"Quite well," she said, "only very ashamed of having fainted, and
very uncomfortable in these wrappings. But, oh! John, how thankful
we ought to be, to God, for having sent this ship to our aid, just
when all seemed lost!"
"We ought, indeed, Mary. I have been thanking him, as I have been
standing here watching the waves; and I am sure you have been doing
the same, in the cabin."
"Yes, indeed, John. But what am I to do, now? I do not like going
on shore like this, and the officer told me I was, on no account,
to put on my wet clothes."
"Do you know, it is Josephus himself, Mary--think of that--the
great Josephus, who has saved us! He marked our boat before the
storm broke and, seeing that we could not reach the shore, had his
vessel steered so as to overtake us."
Mary was too surprised to utter more than an exclamation. The
thought that the man, who had been talking so kindly and pleasantly
to her, was the great leader of whom she had heard so much, quite
took away her breath.
At that moment Josephus, himself, came up.
"I am glad to see you have got your color again, maiden," he said.
"I am just going to land. Do you, with your cousin, remain on board
here. I will send a woman down, with some attire for you. She will
conduct you both to the house where I shall be staying.
"The sea is going down, and the captain tells me that he thinks, in
another three or four hours, I shall be able to get a boat to send
you across to your home. It will be late, but you will not mind
that; for they are sure not to retire to rest, at home, but to be
up all night, searching for you."
A crowd had assembled on the jetty, for Josephus was expected, and
the violent storm had excited the fears of all for his safety; and
the leading inhabitants had all flocked down to welcome him, when
his vessel was seen approaching.
"Isn't he kind and good?" Mary said, enthusiastically, as she
watched the greeting which he received, as he landed. "He talked to
me, just as if he had been of my own family."
"He is grand!" John agreed, with equal enthusiasm. "He is just what
I pictured to myself that a great leader would be; such as Joshua,
or Gideon, or the Prince of the Maccabees."
"Yes; but more gentle, John."
"Brave men should always be gentle," John said, positively.
"They ought to be, perhaps," Mary agreed, "but I don't think they
are."
They chatted, then, about the storm and the anxiety which they
would be feeling, at home; until an officer, accompanied by a woman
carrying attire for Mary, came on board. Mary soon came out of the
cabin, dressed; and the officer conducted them to the house which
had been placed at the disposal of Josephus. The woman led them up
to a room, where a meal had been prepared for them.
"Josephus is in council, with the elders," she said. "He bade me
see that you had all that you required. He has arranged that a bark
shall start with you, as soon as the sea goes down; but if, by
eight o'clock, it is still too rough, I shall take the maiden home
to my house, to sleep; and they will arouse you, as soon as it is
safe to put out, whatever the hour may be, as your friends will be
in great anxiety concerning you."
The sun had already set and, just as they finished their meal, the
man belonging to the boat came to say that it would be midnight
before he could put out.
Mary then went over with the woman; and John lay down on some mats,
to sleep, until it was time to start. He slept soundly, until he
was aroused by the entry of someone, with lights. He started to his
feet, and found that it was Josephus, himself, with an attendant.
"I had not forgotten you," he said, "but I have been, until now, in
council. It is close upon midnight, and the boat is in readiness. I
have sent to fetch the damsel, and have bidden them take plenty of
warm wraps, so that the night air may do her no harm."
Mary soon arrived; and Josephus, himself, went down with them to
the shore, and saw them on board the boat--which was a large one,
with eight rowers. The wind had died away to a gentle breeze, and
the sea had gone down greatly. The moon was up, and the stars
shining brightly. Josephus chatted kindly to John, as they made
their way down to the shore.
"Tell your father," he said, "that I hope he will come over to see
me, ere long; and that I shall bear you in mind. The time is coming
when every Jew who can bear arms will be needed in the service of
his country and, if your father consents, I will place you near my
person; for I have seen that you are brave and cool, in danger, and
you will have plenty of opportunities of winning advancement."
With many thanks for his kindness, John and Mary took their places
in the stern of the boat. Mary enveloped herself in the wraps that
had been prepared for her, for the nights were chilly. Then the
sail was hoisted, and the boat sailed away from the land. The wind
had shifted round, somewhat, to the west, and they were able to lay
their course across towards Hippos; but their progress was slow,
and the master bade the crew get out their oars, and aid the sail.
In three hours they neared the land, John pointing out the exact
position of the village; which was plainly enough marked out, by a
great fire blazing on the shore. As they approached it, they could
see several figures and, presently, there came a shout, which John
recognized as that of Isaac.
"Any news?"
"Here we are, Isaac, safe and well."
There was a confused sound, of shouts and cries of pleasure. In a
few minutes, the boat grated on the shallow shore. The moment she
did so, John leaped out over the bow and waded ashore, and was at
once clasped in his mother's arms; while one of the fishermen
carried Mary to the land. She received, from Martha, a full share
of her caresses; for she loved the girl almost as dearly as she did
her son. Then Miriam and the maids embraced and kissed her, while
Isaac folded John in his arms.
"The God of Israel be thanked and praised, my children!" Martha
exclaimed. "He has brought you back to us, as from the dead, for we
never thought to see you again. Some of the fishermen returned, and
told us that they saw your boat, far on the lake, before the storm
burst; and none held out hope that you could have weathered such a
storm."
"Where is father?" John asked.
"He is out on the lake, as are all the fishermen of the village,
searching for you.
"That reminds me, Isaac, set fire to the other piles of wood that
we have prepared.
"If one of the boats returned, with any sure news of you, we were
to light them to call the others back--one fire if the news was
bad, two if it was good--but we hardly even dared to hope that the
second would be required."
A brand from the fire was soon applied to the other piles, and the
three fires shone out across the lake, with the good news. In a
quarter of an hour a boat was seen approaching, and soon came a
shout:
"Is all well?"
"All is well," John shouted, in reply, and soon he was clasped in
his father's arms.
The other boats came in, one by one; the last to arrive towing in
the boat--which had been found, bottom upwards, far up the lake,
its discovery destroying the last hope of its late occupants being
found alive.
As soon as Simon landed, the party returned to the house. Miriam
and the maids hurried to prepare a meal--of which all were sorely
in need, for no food had been eaten since the gale burst on the
lake; while their three hours in the boat had again sharpened the
appetite of John and Mary. A quantity of food was cooked, and a
skin of old wine brought up from the cellar; and Isaac remained
down on the shore, to bid all who had been engaged in the search
come up and feast, as soon as they landed.
John related to his parents the adventure which had befallen them,
and they wondered greatly at the narrowness of their deliverance.
When the feasting was over, Simon called all together, and solemnly
returned thanks to God for the mercies which He had given them. It
was broad daylight before all sought their beds, for a few hours,
before beginning the work of the day.
A week later Josephus himself came to Hippos, bringing with him two
nobles, who had fled from King Agrippa and sought refuge with him.
He had received them hospitably, and had allotted a home to them at
Tarichea, where he principally dwelt.
He had, just before, had another narrow escape, for six hundred
armed men--robbers and others--had assembled round his house,
charging him with keeping some spoils which had been taken, by a
party of men of that town, from the wife of Ptolemy--King Agrippa's
procurator--instead of dividing them among the people. For a time,
he pacified them by telling them that this money was destined for
strengthening the walls of their town, and for walling other towns
at present undefended; but the leaders of the evildoers were
determined to set his house on fire, and slay him.
He had but twenty armed men with him. Closing the doors, he went to
an upper room, and told the robbers to send in one of their number
to receive the money. Directly he entered, the door was closed. One
of his hands was cut off, and hung round his neck; and he was then
turned out again. Believing that Josephus would not have ventured
to act so boldly, had he not had a large body of armed men with
him, the crowd were seized with panic and fled to their homes.
After this, the enemies of Josephus persuaded the people that the
nobles he had sheltered were wizards; and demanded that they should
be given up to be slain, unless they would change their religion to
that of the Jews. Josephus tried to argue them out of their belief,
saying that there were no such things as wizards and, if the Romans
had wizards who could work them wrong, they would not need to send
an army to fight against them; but as the people still clamored, he
got the men privately on board a ship, and sailed across the lake
with them to Hippos; where he dismissed them, with many presents.
As soon as the news came that Josephus had come to Hippos, Simon
set out with Martha, John, and Mary, to see him. Josephus received
them kindly, and would permit no thanks for what he had done.
"Your son is a brave youth," he said to Simon, "and I would gladly
have him near me, if you would like to have it so. This is a time
when there are greater things than planting vineyards, and
gathering in harvests, to be done; and there is a need for brave
and faithful men. If, then, you and your wife will give the lad to
me, I will see to him, and keep him near me. I have need of
faithful men with me, for my enemies are ever trying to slay me. If
all goes well with the lad, he will have a good opportunity of
rising to honor.
"What say you? Do not give an answer hastily, but think it over
among yourselves and, if you agree to my proposal, send him across
the lake to me."
"It needs no thought, sir," Simon said. "I know well that there are
more urgent things, now, than sowing and reaping; and that much
trouble and peril threaten the land. Right glad am I that my son
should serve one who is the hope of Israel, and his mother will not
grudge him for such service. As to advancement, I wish nothing
better than that he should till the land of his fathers; but none
can say what the Lord has in store for us, or whether strangers may
not reap what I have sown. Thus, then, the wisdom which he will
gain, in being with you, is likely to be a far better inheritance
than any I can give him.
"What say you, Martha?"
"I say as you do, Simon. It will grieve me to part with him, but I
know that such an offer as that which my lord Josephus makes is
greatly for his good. Moreover, the manner in which he was saved
from death seems to show that the Lord has something for his hand
to do, and that his path is specially marked out for him. To refuse
to let him go would be to commit the sin of withstanding God--
"Therefore, my lord, I willingly give up my son to follow you."
"I think that you have decided wisely," Josephus said. "I tarry
here, for tonight, and tomorrow cross to Tiberias; therefore, let
him be here by noon."
Mary was the most silent of the party, on the way home. Simon and
his wife felt convinced the decision they had made was a wise one
and, although they were not ambitious, they yet felt that the offer
of Josephus was a most advantageous one, and opened a career of
honor to their son.
John, himself, was in a state of the highest delight. To be about
the person of Josephus seemed, to him, the greatest honor and
happiness. It opened the way to the performance of great actions,
which would bring honor to his father's name; and although he had
been, hitherto, prepared to settle down to the life of a cultivator
of the soil, he had had his yearnings for one of more excitement
and adventure; and these were now likely to be gratified, to the
fullest.
Mary, however, felt the approaching loss of her friend and playmate
greatly, though even she was not insensible to the honor which the
offer of Josephus conferred upon him.
"You don't seem glad of my good fortune, Mary," John said as, after
they returned home, they strolled together, as usual, down to the
edge of the lake.
"It may be your good fortune, but it's not mine," the girl said,
pettishly. "It will be very dull here, without you. I know what it
will be. Your mother will always be full of anxiety, and will be
fretting whenever we get news of any disturbances; and that is
often enough, for there seem to be disturbances, continually. Your
father will go about silently, Miriam will be sharper than usual
with the maids, and everything will go wrong. I can't see why you
couldn't have said that, in a year or two, you would go with the
governor; but that, at present, you thought you had better stop
with your own people."
"A nice milksop he would have thought me!" John laughed. "No, if he
thought I was man enough to do him service, it would have been a
nice thing for me to say that I thought I was too young.
"Besides, Mary, after all it is your good fortune, as well as mine;
for is it not settled that you are to share it? Josephus is all
powerful and, if I please him and do my duty, he can, in time,
raise me to a position of great honor. I may even come to be the
governor of a town, or a captain over troops, or a councilor."
"No, no!" Mary laughed, "not a councilor, John. A governor,
perhaps; and a captain, perhaps; but never, I should say, a
councilor."
John laughed good temperedly.
"Well, Mary, then you shall look forward to be the wife of a
governor, or captain; but you see, I might even fill the place of a
councilor with credit, because I could always come to you for
advice before, I give an opinion--then I should be sure to be
right.
"But, seriously, Mary, I do think it great honor to have had such
an offer made me, by the governor."
"Seriously, so do I, John; though I wish, in my heart, he had not
made it. I had looked forward to living here, all my life, just as
your mother has done; and now there will be nothing fixed to look
forward to.
"Besides, where there is honor, there is danger. There seem to be
always tumults, always conspiracies--and then, as your father says,
above all there are the Romans to be reckoned with and, of course,
if you are near Josephus you run a risk, going wherever he does."
"I shall never be in greater risk, Mary, than we were, together, on
the lake the other day. God helped us, then, and brought us through
it; and I have faith that He will do so, again. It may be that I am
meant to do something useful, before I die. At any rate, when the
Romans come, everyone will have to fight; so I shall be in no
greater danger than any one else."
"I know, John, and I am not speaking quite in earnest. I am sorry
you are going--that is only natural--but I am proud that you are to
be near our great leader, and I believe that our God will be your
shield and protector.
"And now, we had better go in. Your father will, doubtless, have
much to say to you, this evening; and your mother will grudge every
minute you are out of her sight."