ill be to divine his
feelings without prompting. They are such as had happy homes in
their youth, no matter how far that may have been back in time--homes
which are now the starting-points of all recollection; paradises from
which they went forth in tears, and which they would now return to,
if they could, as little children; places of laughter and singing,
and associations dearer than any or all the triumphs of after-life.

At the gate on the north side of the old house Ben-Hur stopped.
In the corners the wax used in the sealing-up was still plainly
seen, and across the valves was the board with the inscription--

"THIS IS THE PROPERTY OF
THE EMPEROR."

Nobody had gone in or out the gate since the dreadful day of the
separation. Should he knock as of old? It was useless, he knew;
yet he could not resist the temptation. Amrah might hear, and look
out of one of the windows on that side. Taking a stone, he mounted
the broad stone step, and tapped three times. A dull echo replied.
He tried again, louder than before; and again, pausing each time to
listen. The silence was mocking. Retiring into the street, he watched
the windows; but they, too, were lifeless. The parapet on the roof
was defined sharply against the brightening sky; nothing could have
stirred upon it unseen by him, and nothing did stir.

From the north side he passed to the west, where there were four
windows which he watched long and anxiously, but with as little
effect. At times his heart swelled with impotent wishes; at others,
he trembled at the deceptions of his own fancy. Amrah made no
sign--not even a ghost stirred.

Silently, then, he stole round to the south. There, too, the gate
was sealed and inscribed. The mellow splendor of the August moon,
pouring over the crest of Olivet, since termed the Mount of Offence,
brought the lettering boldly out; and he read, and was filled with
rage. All he could do was to wrench the board from its nailing, and
hurl it into the ditch. Then he sat upon the step, and prayed for
the New King, and that his coming might be hastened. As his blood
cooled, insensibly he yielded to the fatigue of long travel in the
summer heat, and sank down lower, and, at last, slept.

About that time two women came down the street from the direction
of the Tower of Antonia, approaching the palace of the Hurs. They
advanced stealthily, with timid steps, pausing often to listen.
At the corner of the rugged pile, one said to t