BY THE THORNY WAYS OF HIS SIN.
Upon a couch in the house of John lay the stranger who had rescued
Stephen from death. About him were gathered those of the household who
chanced to be at home when the sad little procession had arrived.
"He gave his life for mine," said Stephen, solemnly, looking down at the
quiet face across which the shadow of approaching death had already
fallen. "And God hath accepted the sacrifice; it is not his will that
he be restored. Would that I knew to whom I owe this debt of gratitude
before he goes hence."
"He will recover consciousness, I think, shortly," said Mary, laying her
cool white fingers on the brow of the sufferer. "He is assuredly not a
Jew," she added, gazing intently at the dark face upon the pillows.
"Fetch me a basin and sponge, my daughter; it may be that the cool water
will revive him."
The girl to whom she had spoken hastened to obey. As she stooped to
pour water from a jar which stood without in the courtyard, a young man
hurriedly entered the enclosure.
"Where is Stephen?" he cried, as his eye fell upon the maiden. "I heard
but just now that Herod had crushed him beneath his chariot wheels. A
brutal deed. He that told me was an eye-witness."
"By the mercy of God," answered the girl with a half sob, "he hath
escaped with a bruise; another was smitten in his place, and he is
dying. I must hasten with the water!" and she sprang up and hurried
away.
The young man followed, and approaching the group that surrounded the
couch, he looked over the shoulder of the young girl as she held the
basin ready for the hand of Mary. He started as his eye fell upon the
wounded man.
"He is an Egyptian!" he exclaimed.
Even as he spoke, the man opened his eyes. "Water!" he gasped faintly.
Stephen raised the languid head while the skilful hand of Mary held the
cup.
"Lay him down again, gently--so," she said in a low voice.
Then Stephen bent over the pillow. "Canst thou tell us who thou art,
and why it was that thou didst choose the life of another rather than
thine own?"
The dull eyes brightened a little, "Did I save him? Ah, yes--thanks be
to the gods! thou art alive. Did any hurt befall thee?"
"Nay--but I live, alas, because thou art to die."
"It is well, not only that thou wilt live, but that I shall die, if the
God whom thou dost proclaim will but count my worthless life a sacrifice
for my many sins."
"Nay, my brother," said Stephen, "if thou dost but believe on Jesus the
Christ, there is no sacrifice needed for sin; he gave himself a
sacrifice for our transgressions because of the love which he bare us."
"It cannot be that he loves me," said the sick man. "Listen till I
shall tell thee all. I am an Egyptian, my name is Amu----"
The maiden who still stood at his bedside grew very white at the sound
of that name, and the newcomer, who was watching from behind, reached
quietly out and took the basin from her nerveless fingers. "Anat," he
whispered, "'tis a common enough name."
"It is he," she returned, "I know the voice--but listen!"
"Early in life," continued the Egyptian, his voice gathering strength,
"I was even as others, neither better, nor worse,--'tis not of those
days I would speak, but of the days when I was a man grown--then it
chanced that there came a certain stranger out of the wilderness with
his wife and child, and sojourned in Egypt. He possessed gold and
bought for himself a plot of land not far from the river. This he
tilled with industry, so that after a time he gained more gold and
bought still another bit of tillage. Not much, for land was costly in
the neighborhood of the river. I was his neighbor and I was not
unfriendly to him, for he was a stranger and knew not the ways of the
people, nor at the first the proper grains to cast into the earth. And
because I helped him in such small matters he loved me and clave to me,
as also his wife; and I was ever an honored guest in their house. After
a time, there came a great sickness over all the region about the upper
Nile, because the river failed to overflow his banks at the proper
season. The people were wasted by it, and they died by hundreds and by
thousands. My father and my brothers died; and the plot of land which
had been theirs came to me.
"After a time the man who had come out of the wilderness was likewise
stricken, and his wife; and when it presently appeared that they both
must die, he sent for me and spake to me after this manner, 'My friend,
who hath been to me even as a brother in this land of strangers wherein
we have sojourned, I am sorely stricken, both I and the mother of the
children, and it must presently come to pass that we be gathered to our
fathers; but before my soul passes I would fain speak to thee of my
little ones who will be left desolate, if so be that the plague spares
them.' 'Speak,' I made answer, 'I will do with them as thou dost
command.' Then he told me how that he was a Greek born in Antioch, and
the son of a rich man. After his father died a fierce quarrel arose
betwixt the two brothers over the division of the inheritance; and when
after many days the bitterness still continued, it came to pass that he
smote his brother and wounded him sore; then taking what he would he
fled away into the wilderness. There he took to himself a wife from the
tribes that wandered in the desert and afterward came to dwell in Egypt.
"'Now I pray and beseech thee,' he said to me, 'by all that thou boldest
sacred, that thou wilt take my two children and the price of the
land--when thou shalt have sold it--and fetch them to my brother, for I
have heard that he yet liveth, and say to him this: Thy brother is dead.
He sendeth thee the money that he took away--and more; and here are also
his two children. Let them find favor in thy sight, I pray thee, for
they are desolate.'
"I promised my neighbor that I would do what he desired of me; and I
sware it by the temple of Ptah Hotep, and by the sacred Nile, and by the
soul of my father. And when he had told me his brother's name and how
to find him, he turned himself about on his bed and spoke no more. In
that same day both he and his wife perished. Of the two children one
was likewise stricken, and I watched her many days till she recovered.
Afterward I perceived that she had become blind by reason of the plague.
"That season I could not sell the land, for there were none to buy; so I
planted the crops and reaped them, and the children ate and were
satisfied; but the money I received for the grain I kept, for I said the
laborer is worthy of his wages. The next season I also planted and
reaped, and the next; and at the time of the third harvest a man came to
me and said, 'Wilt thou sell this land for thy neighbor's children?' and
I answered him 'Nay, I will not sell. My neighbor owed me money and he
died without repaying me, therefore is the land mine!' And after a time
I came almost to believe what I had said. But I waxed exceeding bitter
against the two children, who were as yet only babes; so I sent them
away to a woman who dwelt in the tombs above the river; and I paid her
to keep them. Afterward she died, and the two continued to dwell alone
in the tombs. They grew and waxed strong--though no one cared for them,
for the boy was lusty and brave; he had become a water-carrier. Still I
kept a watch upon them, for I feared lest they should in some way find
out what I had done; though I confessed it to no one, not even my wife.
After a time the fear grew upon me so that I could neither eat nor
sleep, and I resolved to rid myself of the two. I had not yet grown
evil enough to wish to slay them, so I turned the thing over in my mind
for many days; at the last I was resolved what to do. I would sell them
for slaves, then would they be taken away and I should be free from my
fears; not only so, but I should receive gold, with which to buy more
land. But when I would have accomplished my desires upon them, they
fled away into the desert, and assuredly perished; for though I searched
for them long, I could never find what had become of them."
"Why didst thou search for them," said Seth suddenly, as the man paused
to drink from the cup which Mary again held to his parched lips.
"I searched for them," replied the man, his eyes resting upon his
questioner's face with a startled expression, "because--Nay, I hardly
know why. I had repented me of my desire to make slaves of them, but I
was not ready to give up the land."
"What became of Besa?"
"I found him dead in the tomb where he thought the twain were hidden,"
answered the Egyptian as if in a dream. "But who art thou that dost
question me?" and he half raised himself in the bed, his livid face
growing yet more ghastly with the painful effort.
"We are the children of the man thou didst wrong," said Seth fiercely.
"Tell me, what was the name of our kinsman, that we may yet seek him as
our father willed?"
"His name was Erastus; but, alas, he is dead now these many years. I
sought him that I might render an account of what I had done, for I
feared death on account of my sin. Neither dared I pray any more to the
avenging gods; for had I not foresworn myself in their names? So,
because there was no longer any comfort for me in the lands which I
possessed, nor in my children, nor in anything in the whole land of
Egypt, I became a wanderer in far countries. Here in Jerusalem not many
days since, I chanced to hear a wondrous thing, 'that they which had
sinned might find peace and forgiveness in one Jesus of Nazareth, who
had lived upon earth that he might save them which were lost.' That
same day I beheld him that had spoken these words; and I drew near,
desiring to ask him still further of the matter, when on a sudden I saw
that he was in mortal peril. I scarce know what followed; but I longed
to save him, if only that I might hear once more the strange story of
the man Jesus. Tell me"--and the man's glazing eyes sought
Stephen--"thou hast heard all--is there forgiveness for such as I?"
"There is forgiveness for every one that doth repent and believe in the
Lord Jesus," said Stephen softly. "Surely thou mayest pass in peace, my
brother; for God hath led thee even by the thorny ways of thy sin unto
himself."
The dying man's eyes again brightened, his lips moved; then he stretched
out his hand toward the youth and the maiden, who had sunken to their
knees by his bedside. "Wilt thou also forgive?" he murmured.
"Yes--yes. We forgive thee fully, as also we hope to be forgiven,"
cried Seth, pressing his lips to the cold hand which had so cruelly
wronged him.
"Thy mother--her name was Zarah," faltered the Egyptian--"she was the
daughter--of--" his voice failed him; thrice he made an unavailing
effort to speak, then the eternal silence fell softly upon him.
"He hath passed into the presence of the Love that hath led him through
all the weary way of his life," said Mary solemnly. "There will he find
peace."