CHAPTER XIX.
A PRISON.
From her long swoon Zarah awoke with a sensation of indescribablehorror. The cold drops stood on her brow, and there was a painfultightness at her heart. The poor girl could not at once recall whathad happened, but knew that it was something dreadful. The first imagethat rose up in her mind was that of the expiring Abishai: Zarahshuddered, trembled, raised herself by an effort to a sitting posture,and wildly gazing around her, exclaimed, "Where am I? what can havehappened?"
The place in which the maiden found herself was almost quite dark, butas she glanced upwards she could see pale stars gleaming in through asmall and heavily-barred window. She knew that she must be in a Syrianprison. Pressing both her hands to her forehead, the young captiverecalled the terrible scene of which she had been a witness. "Oh, Godbe praised that beloved Hadassah was not there!"
Zarah repeated again and again to herself, as if to strengthen hergrasp on the only consolation which at first offered itself to hersoul. "Abishai's fate is awful--awful!" Zarah shuddered with mingledcompassion and horror. "But oh, it is better, far better for him--mypoor kinsman--that he did not fall into the hands of the enemy alive,as I have done! That would have been more awful still!"
Zarah was no high-spirited heroine, but a timid, gentle, loving girl,subject to fears, shrinking from danger, peculiarly sensitive to painwhether physical or mental. Though related both to Solomona andHadassah, Zarah had neither the calm fortitude of the one, nor theexalted spirituality of the other; she deemed herself alike incapableof uttering the inspired words of a prophetess, or showing the firmendurance of a martyr.
And it was a martyr's trial that was now looming before the imprisonedmaiden: she would, like Solomona and her sons, have to renounce eitherher faith or her life. To Zarah this was a terrible alternative, forthough, but a few hours previously the poor maiden had longed for deathto come and release her from sorrow, the idea of its approach, heraldedby such tortures as Hebrew captives had had to undergo, was unspeakablydreadful to the tender spirit of Zarah.
"Oh, I fear that I shall never endure to the end; my courage will giveway; I shall disgrace myself, my country, my race, and draw on myselfthe wrath of my God!" exclaimed Zarah, starting up in terror, afterrehearsing to herself the ordeal to which her faith was likely to beexposed. "Woe is me!--what shall I do--what shall I do--is there noway of escape?" Those massive stone walls, those thick iron bars weresufficient answer to the question. Zarah leant against the wall, andraised her clasped hands towards the glimpse of sky seen between thosedark bars.
"Oh, my God, have mercy upon me!" she cried; "feeble, utterly helplessin myself, I cast myself upon Thee! Thou hast said, _When thou passestthrough the waters, I will be with thee; when thou walkest through thefire, thou shalt not be burned_. Carry the weak lamb in Thy bosom; letme feel beneath the everlasting arms!" The tears were flowing fastdown Zarah's cheeks as she sobbed forth her almost inarticulate prayer:"I ask not to be saved from death--not even from torture--if it be Thywill that I should endure it; but oh, save me from falling away fromThee; save me from denying my faith, and breaking the heart of mymother!---And I shall surely be saved!" said Zarah more calmly, herfaith gaining strength from the exercise of prayer. "Perhaps the Lordwill make the pain tolerable--He to whom all things are possible can doso--or He may even send an angel to protect me, as He sent His brightand holy ones to guard Elisha." The imagination of Zarah pictured abeing with glorious wings flying down to her rescue, with a countenanceresembling that of Lycidas--to her the type of perfect beauty. "Or theLord may raise up some earthly friend," continued Zarah. Then fancyagain pictured a Lycidas, but this time wanting the wings. The maidenstopped her weeping, and dashed the limpid drops from her eyes. Agleam of brightness seemed to illumine the dark prospect before her.How eagerly do we listen to the voice of hope, even if it be but theecho of a wish, an echo thrown back from the cold hard rock which canonly repeat the utterance of our own heart's desires; it comes back tous like music! Zarah's prison would have been far more dreary to themaiden, her approaching trial far more dreadful, had she known the factthat Lycidas had gone to Bethlehem, and had heard nothing of the perilof her whom he loved.
In the same unconsciousness of Zarah's imminent peril, another, to whomshe was dearer than the sight of the eyes or the breath of life, layextended on the ground in sleep, many miles from Jerusalem, with nopillow but that stalwart arm, around which was still twined a slightflaxen strand. A monarch might have envied the dream which made thefeatures of the sleeper relax into an expression of happiness which,when waking, they seldom indeed wore. Maccabeus, lying on the parcheddry earth, was in thought seated in an Eden of flowers, with Zarah athis side, her small hand clasped in his own. She was listening withbashful smile and downcast eyes to words such as the warrior had neverbreathed to her, save in his dreams. All was peace within and without,peace deepening into rapture, even as the sky above appeared almostdark from the intensity of its blue! Such was the Hebrew's dream ofZarah! How different the dream from the actual reality! Had Maccabeusknown the actual position of the helpless girl, to guard whom from theslightest wrong he would so willingly have shed his life's blood, eventhat heart which had never yet quelled in the face of peril would haveknown for once keenest anguish of fear!