For the first time in the course of her life, Zarah dreaded a meeting with Hadassah. Though the season was now so far advanced that the heat of the sun was great, the maiden lingered on the shadeless housetop, leaning her brow against the parapet, listlessly gazing towards Jerusalem, but with her mind scarcely taking in the objects upon which her eyes were fixed. Was it a foreboding of coming sorrow, or a feeling of self-reproach, that brooded over the maiden's soul? Zarah was afraid to analyze her own feelings: she only knew that her heart was very heavy.
Nearly two hours thus passed. The sun had now approached the horizon, and the heat was less oppressive. Zarah heard the slow step of Hadassah ascending the stair, and rose to meet her, but with a sensation of fear. The remembrance of that look of sad displeasure, such as had never been turned upon her before, had haunted the mind of the conscious girl. Was Hadassah angry with her daughter? Would she come to probe a heart which had never from childhood kept a secret from one so tenderly loved? Zarah was afraid to raise her eyes to Hadassah's when they met, lest she should encounter that stern look again; but never had the aged lady's face worn an expression of greater tenderness than it did when, on the housetop, she rejoined the child of her love.
"Have you been here in the heat of the sun, my dove, letting the fierce rays beat on your unveiled face?" said Hadassah, after printing a kiss on the maiden's brow. "Nay, I must chide you, my Zarah. Seat yourself where yon tall palm now throws its shadow, and I will sit beside you. We will talk of the glorious tidings which Abishai brought to us to-day."
It was a great relief to Zarah to hear that such was to be the subject of the coming conversation. She glanced timidly up into the face of Hadassah; and, quite reassured by what she saw there, took her favourite place at her grandmother's feet.
"Is it not evident," pursued Hadassah, "that the arm of the Lord is stretched out to fight for Judah---that His blessing goes with Judas Maccabeus? Do you not rejoice, Zarah, in the victory which has been won by our Hebrew heroes?"
"I do rejoice; I thank God for it," replied the maiden. "I hope that a time is coming when we shall go forth, like the women of Israel in olden time, who went singing and dancing to meet Saul and David, after the triumph over the Philistines."
"David, when he slew Goliath and won the hand of a king's daughter, deserved not more of his country than does Maccabeus," observed Hadassah. "Are you not proud of your kinsman, my child?"
"All Judaea is proud of her hero," said Zarah.
"Happy the woman whom he shall choose as his bride!" cried Hadassah.
The maiden gave no reply.
"Zarah, why should I longer conceal from you what has so long been in my thoughts?" said the aged lady, after a pause of some minutes' duration. "Why should you not know of the high honour awaiting my daughter? From your early childhood both Mattathias, our revered kinsman--on whose grave be peace!--and myself have looked forward to the future espousals of my loved Zarah and Judas."
"Judas! Oh, no, no!" exclaimed Zarah, suddenly withdrawing her trembling hand from that of her grandmother, in which it had been clasped. "He is wedded to his country; he will never think of taking a wife." She spoke rapidly, and with some emotion.
"His toils and triumphs may, and I trust will, lead to future peace," said Hadassah. "Then may he enjoy the happiness which he has earned so well. Will you not give it to him, Zarah--you, whose very name signifies 'brightness'?"
"I honour Maccabeus as a hero; I could reverence him as my prince; I would kneel and wash the dust from his feet, or cut off my long hair to string his bow; but I cannot be his bride," exclaimed Zarah. "I am so weak, so unworthy! It would be like mating the eagle with the sparrow that sits on the housetops. Maccabeus is the noblest of men."
"Blessed the wife who can so honour her lord!" said Hadassah.
"I do honour Maccabeus from the depths of my soul; but--but I fear him," faltered Zarah.
"Were you a Syrian you might say so," observed Hadassah, with a faint approach to a smile; "but not as a daughter of Judah. Terrible as he is to his country's foes, to armed oppressors, no maiden had ever cause to dread Maccabeus. The sharp thorns of the cactus make it an impenetrable fence which the strongest intruder cannot break through; yet bears it brilliant flowers and refreshing fruit. The strong war-horse tramples down the enemy in battle; but in peace the little child unharmed may play with his mane. The bravest are the most gentle. Judas is no exception to this rule. Pure-hearted and true, he is one to make a woman happy."
Zarah sighed, and drooped her head.
"Was it not a proud moment for Achsah, when Othniel, after the conquest of Kirjathsepher, claimed her hand as the victor's prize?" asked Hadassah.
"But Achsah was the daughter of a Caleb," said Zarah. Then, raising her head, she suddenly inquired--"Did my father also destine me to be the bride of my kinsman?"
Hadassah winced at the question, as if a painful wound had been touched.
"Oh, my child, have pity on me," she faintly murmured, "and speak not of him!"
Zarah had for long known that there was one subject which she dared never approach. Her grandmother had, as it were, one locked chamber in her heart, which no one might venture to open. Whether Zarah's father were dead or not, the maiden knew not. She faintly remembered a tall, handsome man, who had played with her tresses and danced her in his arms when she was a child, in her early home at Bethsura; but since she had left that home in company with her grandmother, she had never seen him nor heard his name. The slightest allusion to her father by Zarah had caused such distress to Hadassah, that the child had soon learned to be silent, though not to forget. Hadassah often spoke of Miriam, her only daughter, and of Zarah's own gentle mother--twin-roses, as she would call them, both early gathered for heaven in the first year of their wedded lives--but of her son she never would speak. A mystery hung round the fate of Abner--such was his name--which his daughter vainly longed to penetrate. Her heart reproached her now for the unguarded question into which she had been surprised.
"Oh, forgive me, mother," said Zarah, kissing the hand of Hadassah, which was tremulous and cold; "your word, your will, shall be enough for me in all things, except--oh, ask me not to wed my kinsman."
"Is it, can it be because another has a nearer place in your heart?" said Hadassah. The fair countenance of Zarah became suddenly rosy as the sunlit cloud, then pale as Lebanon snow, at the question.
"Oh, then, my fears are too true!" exclaimed Hadassah, in a tone not of wrath but of anguish. "Must the sins of the father be visited upon the innocent child! A Gentile--a heathen--an idolater! Would I had died ere this day!"
"Be not angry with me, mother," faltered Zarah, wetting Hadassah's hand with her tears.
"I am not angry, my poor dove," cried the widow. "Woe is me that I have been, as it were, constrained to expose you to this cruel snare. But you will break through it," she added, with more animation, "my bird will rise above earth with her silver wings unsullied and bright! Various are the temptations which the soul's enemy employs to draw away God's servants from their allegiance; some he would sway through their fears; others he would win by the love of the world, its wealth and its pleasures; others he would chain by their hearts' strong affections. But the Lord gives strength to his people, to resist and to conquer, whether the temptation be from fear or from love. You are the worthy kinsman of Solomona, who gave life itself for the faith."
"Perhaps the sacrifice of life is not the hardest to make," Zarah dreamily replied.
"Solomona gave her seven sons," said Hadassah.
"Oh, what a mercy-stroke to her was that which let her follow them!" exclaimed Zarah. "Had she been left to survive all whom she loved, Solomona had been the most wretched woman on earth!"
"No; not the most wretched," said Hadassah, with deep feeling, "for they all died in the faith. Better, all, far better to lose seven by death, than one by--by treason against God!" And in an almost inaudible voice the aged lady added, closing her eyes, "Must I know that misery twice?"
"No, mother, mine own dear mother, you shall never know that misery through me!" exclaimed Zarah with animation. "I will pray, I will strive, I will try to put away, even from my thoughts, all that would come between me and the faith of a daughter of Abraham, only guide me, help me, tell your child what she should do," and the maiden passionately kissed again and again the hand of Hadassah, and then pillowed her aching head on her parent's bosom. Hadassah folded her there in a long and tender embrace.
"I would send you to Bethsura, to my aged cousin, Rachel," said the widow, "only"--
"Oh, send me not away; let me stay beside you; your health is failing; I should never know peace afar from you!" sobbed Zarah, in a tone of entreaty.
"I dare not send my child to Idumea, with no safe escort, and the Syrians, men of Belial, holding the land," said Hadassah. "Better keep her here under my wing, in the quiet seclusion of my home. But, oh, my child, attend to the voice of your mother; you must avoid meeting the Gentile stranger; you must be little in the lower apartments, Zarah, and never save when I am there also. Your trial will not last long; the Athenian's wounds are healing; after the Passover-feast, Abishai will leave Jerusalem to join the patriot band. When he is once safe beyond reach of the enemy, I will no longer for one hour harbour Lycidas under my roof; he has been here far too long already. Your painful struggle will now last but a short time, my Zarah."
Zarah thought, though she did not say so, that the heart struggle would last as long as her earthly existence.
"You will obey me, my daughter?" asked the widow; "you will shun the too attractive society of the stranger?"
The maiden bowed her head in assent, and murmured, "Pray for me, mother; I am so weak."
"My life shall be one prayer," said Hadassah.
"Mine--one sacrifice," thought the poor maiden. "Oh, may that sacrifice be accepted!"
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