ut five years after the crucifixion, Esther, the wife of Ben-Hur,
sat in her room in the beautiful villa by Misenum. It was noon, with
a warm Italian sun making summer for the roses and vines outside.
Everything in the apartment was Roman, except that Esther wore the
garments of a Jewish matron. Tirzah and two children at play upon
a lion skin on the floor were her companions; and one had only to
observe how carefully she watched them to know that the little ones
were hers.

Time had treated her generously. She was more than ever beautiful,
and in becoming mistress of the villa, she had realized one of her
cherished dreams.

In the midst of this simple, home-like scene, a servant appeared
in the doorway, and spoke to her.

"A woman in the atrium to speak with the mistress."

"Let her come. I will receive her here."

Presently the stranger entered. At sight of her the Jewess arose,
and was about to speak; then she hesitated, changed color,
and finally drew back, saying, "I have known you, good woman.
You are--"

"I was Iras, the daughter of Balthasar."

Esther conquered her surprise, and bade the servant bring the
Egyptian a seat.

"No," said Iras, coldly. "I will retire directly."

The two gazed at each other. We know what Esther presented--a
beautiful woman, a happy mother, a contented wife. On the other
side, it was very plain that fortune had not dealt so gently with
her former rival. The tall figure remained with some of its grace;
but an evil life had tainted the whole person. The face was coarse;
the large eyes were red and pursed beneath the lower lids; there was
no color in her cheeks. The lips were cynical and hard, and general
neglect was leading rapidly to premature old age. Her attire was
ill chosen and draggled. The mud of the road clung to her sandals.
Iras broke the painful silence.

"These are thy children?"

Esther looked at them, and smiled.

"Yes. Will you not speak to them?"

"I would scare them," Iras replied. Then she drew closer to Esther,
and seeing her shrink, said, "Be not afraid. Give thy husband a
message for me. Tell him his enemy is dead, and that for the much
misery he brought me I slew him."

"His enemy!"

"The Messala. Further, tell thy husband that for the harm I sought to do
him I have been punished until even he would pity me."

Tears arose in Esther's eyes, and she was about to speak.

"Nay," said Iras, "I do not want pity or tears. Tell him, finally,
I have