te.

"What possessed thee to go?" she demanded. "Is it Rameses who hath
beset thee?"

Rachel shook her head and avoided Masanath's eye.

"Tell me," the Egyptian insisted. "There is mystery in this. What had
my father's man to do with thy hasty resolution to depart?"

There was no answer. Masanath put the Israelite back from her a little
and repeated her question.

"I can not tell thee," Rachel responded slowly.

Silence fell, and Masanath spoke at last, in a decided voice.

"Thou art within my house, and so under my command. Thou shalt not
leave me! I have said!" She turned to go back to her cushions.
Rachel followed her.

"I pray thee, Masanath--"

"Hold thy peace. Let us have no more of this."

Rachel grew paler, and she clasped her hands as though praying for
fortitude. At last she broke out:

"Masanath! Masanath! That man--that Unas--attended the noble who
halted me on the road to the Nile, that morning; he was the one sent
back to Memphis for the document of gift; he pursued me into the hills.
He is the servant of the man who follows me!"

The Egyptian recoiled as though she had been struck.

"Nay, nay," she cried, throwing up her hands as though to ward off the
conviction. "Not my father! Not he! Thou art wrong, Rachel!"

"Would to the Lord God that I were, my sister! But I am not mistaken
in that face. He was the one that disputed with Kenkenes--was the one
Kenkenes choked. Never was there another man with such a voice, such a
face, such a figure! It is he!"

Masanath wrung her hands.

"Tell it over again. Describe the noble to me."

"He was third in the procession and drove black horses--"

"Holy Mother Isis! his horses were black. The first two would have
been the princes of the realm, the next the fan-bearer. Nay, I dare
not hope that it is not true. Since he would barter his own daughter
for a high place, he would not hesitate to take by force the daughter
of another. O Mother of Sorrows, hide me! my father! my father!" she
wailed.

Under the combined weight of her griefs, she dropped on the carpeted
pavement and wept without control. All of Rachel's fear and horror
were swept away in a wave of compunction and pity. She lifted the
little Egyptian back upon her cushions again and, kneeling beside her,
took the bowed head against her heart. Her hair fell forward and
framed the two sorrowing faces in a shower of gold.

"Lo! I have been a guest under thy roof a