CHAPTER V.
THE DREAM.
At sunrise on the following morning two women were seated on theground, in the back part of a small flat-roofed house, situated in avery secluded spot amongst the hills, not a mile from Jerusalem. Theysat opposite to each other, engaged--after the manner of the East--ingrinding corn, by moving round, by means of handles, the uppermillstone upon the nether one.
The room in which they were, if room it could be termed, was a narrowplace on the ground-floor, partitioned off from a larger apartment, anddevoted to holding stores, and other such domestic uses. Here corn wasground, rice sifted from the husk, and occasionally weaving carried on.Large bunches of raisins hung on the walls, jars of olive-oil and honeywere neatly ranged on the floor; nor lacked there stores of millet,lentiles, and dried figs, such being the food on which chieflysubsisted the dwellers in that lonely home. A curtain, now drawn asidedivided this store-place from the larger front room, which opened tothe road in front. It had a door communicating with a small patch ofcultivated ground behind, in which were a few flowers tended by women'shands, the fairest clustering round a bright little spring which gushedfrom the hill on whose steepest side the small habitation seemed tonestle.
One of the women, busy with the laborious task of grinding, was aHebrew servant, past the prime of her days, but still strong to work;the other was fair and young, her delicate frame, her slender fingers,looking little suited for manual labour. With a very sad countenanceand a heavy heart sat Zarah that morning at the millstone, engaged inher monotonous task. It was not that she was unwilling to spend herstrength in humble toil, or that she murmured because her grandmotherHadassah had no longer men-servants and but one maid-servant to do herbidding. Zarah had too much of the spirit of a Ruth to shrink fromwork, or to complain of poverty, if shared with one who was to her as amother; nay, her cheerfulness at labour was wont to gush forth in song.It was not a personal trial that now made the tears flow from Zarah'slustrous eyes, as she slowly turned round the millstone; no selfishsorrow drew heavy sighs from her bosom, as she murmured to herself,"Oh, cruel--cruel!"
"Peace be unto you, my child. You are early, and it was late ere youcould retire to rest," said the voice of Hadassah, as, pale and sad inaspect, the widow lady entered the apartment.
Zarah arose from her humble posture, approached her grandmother, firstmeekly kissed the hem of her garment, and then received her tenderembrace.
"I could not sleep," faltered the maiden; "I dared not close my eyeslest I should dream some dream of horror. Oh, ruthless Abishai, mostcruel of men! will not the All-merciful, who cares for the stranger,require that young Greek's blood at his hand?"--Zarah covered her faceand wept.
"His was an unrighteous and wicked deed," said Hadassah.
"And it was I who betrayed the stranger," sobbed Zarah. "It was mystart and exclamation which directed the murderer's eyes to his placeof concealment! I shall never be happy again!"
"Nay, you did no wrong, my white dove," said Hadassah, tenderly drawingthe maiden closer to her bosom; "the guilt lies on the head of Abishai,and on his head alone. Had he not been the beloved of my dead Miriam,my only daughter, never more should that man of blood cross thethreshold of Hadassah."
"I never wish to look on Abishai again!" cried Zarah, with as much ofanger as her gentle nature was capable of feeling, flashing from underher long dark lashes. "He might have trusted one whom Judas couldtrust; the face of that Greek was a face which could not deceive;" andthe maiden added, but not aloud, "the stranger--when he stood withfolded arms, so calm, so beauteous, so noble, and bowed his head, andsaid 'Content' when his life was trembling in the balance--looked to meas one of the goodly angels that came to Sodom at eve! Better, if hemust needs die, that the Greek should have fallen by the javelin of mybrave kinsman Judas, than by the dagger of Abishai. Mother," criedZarah, suddenly raising her head, and looking into the face of Hadassahwith an earnest, pleading gaze, "may we not hope that the stranger'ssoul has found mercy with God? How could the young Gentile worship Onewhom he knew not?--his blindness was inherited from his parents--he didnot wilfully turn away from the light! Oh, say that you think that theAll-merciful has had compassion on the murdered Greek! did not the Lordspare Nineveh--pitied He not even the little ones and the cattle?"
"I do think it--I do firmly believe it," said Hadassah, raising hereyes towards heaven; "verily the dream that visited me last night musthave been sent to assure me of this."
"Tell me your dream, mother," cried Zarah, who always addressed by thistitle the parent of her father.
"Come with me into the front room, my child; leave Anna to prepare ourpottage of lentiles, and I will tell you my dream," said Hadassah,leading the way into what might, in a European dwelling, have beencalled the sitting-room. This, with the place which they had justquitted, and two sleeping apartments above, which were reached by arough stair on the exterior of the dwelling, constituted all theaccommodation of Hadassah's small house, if we except the flat roof,surrounded by a parapet, often used by the ladies as a cool and airyretreat.
Hadassah and her grand-daughter seated themselves in a half-recliningposture upon skins that were spread on the tiled floor; and while Zarahlistened with glistening eyes, the Hebrew widow told her dream to themaiden.
"Methought, in the visions of the night--for I snatched a brief hour ofrepose after our return from the burial--I beheld two women before me.They were both goodly to look upon, with a strange spiritual beauty notseen on this side of the tomb. The feet of the women rested not on theearth, but they gently floated above it; the air seemed purpled aroundthem, and fragrant with the odour of myrrh. The first woman bore inher hand a scarlet cord, the other a bundle of golden corn.
"'Hadassah,' said the first, 'I am Rahab, of the doomed race of Canaan,yet received as a daughter of Abraham. For the sake of David, born ofmy line, and for the sake of Him who was the Root of Jesse (Isa. xi.10) and shall be the Branch (Isa. xi. 1), have pity upon the stranger.'
"And the second woman, who was exceeding fair, spoke to me in likemanner: 'Hadassah, I am Ruth, of the guilty race of Moab, yet receivedas a daughter of Abraham. For the sake of David, born of my line, andfor the sake of Him who was the Root of Jesse and shall be the Branch,have pity upon the stranger.' And so the two bright visitantsvanished--and I awoke."
"Would that your dream had been sent to Abishai!" exclaimed Zarah;"then might he not through life have borne the brand-mark of Cain!"
"Hark!" cried Hadassah, suddenly; "was that a groan that I heard?"
Zarah had heard the sound also, and was on her feet and at the doorbefore Hadassah had ended the sentence.
"Oh, mother--it is he--the stranger--he is dying!" exclaimed Zarah,trembling as she bent over the form of Lycidas, which lay stretched onthe ground, close to the threshold.
The injuries which the young Greek had received from the dagger and thefall, though severe and dangerous, had not proved fatal. The freshmorning air had restored him to consciousness; unable to rise, Lycidashad yet managed to drag himself feebly along for some distance, till,as he reached the nearest dwelling, the strength of the Athenian hadutterly failed him, and he had swooned at the door of Hadassah.
"Bear him in--he bleeds!" said Hadassah; and after calling thestrong-armed Anna to aid them, the Hebrew ladies themselves carried thesenseless form of the stranger into the house, and beyond thecurtain-partition into that back portion of the dwelling described inthe beginning of this chapter. For some time undivided attention wasgiven to efforts to restore consciousness to the wounded man.Hadassah, like many of her countrywomen, had knowledge of the healingart. Zarah brought of the balm of Gilead and reviving wine; Annadragged into the inner room mats and skins, that the sufferer mighthave something softer to rest upon than the hard floor. Zarah and theservant then retired, by the order of Hadassah, leaving her to examineand bind up the wounds of Lycidas, which she did with tenderness andskill When all had been done which could be done, Hadassah dre
w asidethe curtain-screen, and rejoined Zarah and Anna in the front apartment,where the latter was engaged in removing the crimson stains left by thewounded Greek on the floor and threshold.
"Go on the road, Anna," said the widow; "carefully efface any marks bywhich a wounded man could be tracked to my dwelling. No one must knowthat the stranger is here."
"If Abishai heard of it, even your roof would not protect the youth,"said Zarah, turning pale at the thought of a repetition, in the sacredprecincts of home, of the horrible scene of the previous night. "Oh,mother, think you that the stranger will live?"
"He may; youth can swim through stormy waters," replied Hadassah;"but--may I be forgiven the inhospitable thought!--I would that theGreek had come to any other house rather than to mine."
"So few visitors ever seek this spot--so few strangers ever pass it--welead lives so retired--we can, better than most, conceal a guest,"observed Zarah.
The brow of Hadassah was clouded still. In that small dwelling, with afair girl under her care, the widow lady was unwilling to harbour forweeks, or more probably months, a man, and that man a Gentile.Anxiously she revolved the matter in her mind, but no other courseseemed to open before her. She could not be guilty of the cruelty ofturning the helpless sufferer out to die.
"On Abishai's account," said Hadassah, "I dare not seek out the friendsof the Greek, if friends he have in Jerusalem, and ask them to bear himthence. To do that, after Abishai's murderous attempt on his life,would be to deliver over Miriam's husband to the executioner's sword.This young man is bound alike by honour and gratitude to preservesilence as to what passed by the grave; but there is nothing to preventhim from seeking, and much to induce him to seek, retribution on awould-be assassin, who violated the pledge of safety given to theGreek. Would, I repeat, that this stranger had come to any houserather than mine!"
"Mother, remember your dream!" exclaimed Zarah, who, in the secretdepths of her heart, did not share Hadassah's regret. Compassion forthe suffering--admiration for the beautiful and brave,--combined toawaken in the maiden strong interest in the fate of the stranger.Zarah was well pleased that her grandmother's hospitality should be tohim some reparation for a deep wrong sustained from one of her family.
"Yes," said Hadassah, thoughtfully; "that dream must have been sent toprepare me for this. The Lord hath given me a work to perform, and Hewill not let His servant suffer for striving to do His bidding. Thewounded stranger, Gentile though he be, needs hospitality, and I darenot refuse it. If the Lord hath guided him to the home of Hadassah,the Lord will send a blessing with him." And trying to stifle hermisgivings, the widow lady returned to her guest.