s self-control. By a strong effort he continued. "'I recall
further,'" he read, "'that thou didst make disposition of the family
of Hur'"--there the reader again paused and drew a long breath--"'both
of us at the time supposing the plan hit upon to be the most effective
possible for the purposes in view, which were silence and delivery over
to inevitable but natural death.'"

Here Ben-Hur broke down utterly. The paper fell from his hands,
and he covered his face.

"They are dead--dead. I alone am left."

The sheik had been a silent, but not unsympathetic, witness of the
young man's suffering; now he arose and said, "Son of Arrius, it is
for me to beg thy pardon. Read the paper by thyself. When thou art
strong enough to give the rest of it to me, send word, and I will
return."

He went out of the tent, and nothing in all his life became him
better.

Ben-Hur flung himself on the divan and gave way to his feelings.
When somewhat recovered, he recollected that a portion of the letter
remained unread, and, taking it up, he resumed the reading. "Thou
wilt remember," the missive ran, "what thou didst with the mother
and sister of the malefactor; yet, if now I yield to a desire to
learn if they be living or dead"--Ben-Hur started, and read again,
and then again, and at last broke into exclamation. "He does not
know they are dead; he does not know it! Blessed be the name of
the Lord! there is yet hope." He finished the sentence, and was
strengthened by it, and went on bravely to the end of the letter.

"They are not dead," he said, after reflection; "they are not dead,
or he would have heard of it."

A second reading, more careful than the first, confirmed him in
the opinion. Then he sent for the sheik.

"In coming to your hospitable tent, O sheik," he said, calmly,
when the Arab was seated and they were alone, "it was not in my
mind to speak of myself further than to assure you I had sufficient
training to be intrusted with your horses. I declined to tell you
my history. But the chances which have sent this paper to my hand
and given it to me to be read are so strange that I feel bidden to
trust you with everything. And I am the more inclined to do so by
knowledge here conveyed that we are both of us threatened by the
same enemy, against whom it is needful that we make common cause.
I will read the letter and give you explanation; after which you
will not wonder I was so moved. If you thought me weak or childish,
yo