im she must;
in that instant of finding him she must renounce him forever!
How bitter, bitter hard it was, let some other mother say! She
knelt down, and, crawling to his feet, touched the sole of one
of his sandals with her lips, yellow though it was with the dust
of the street--and touched it again and again; and her very soul
was in the kisses.

He stirred, and tossed his hand. They moved back, but heard him
mutter in his dream,

"Mother! Amrah! Where is--"

He fell off into the deep sleep.

Tirzah stared wistfully. The mother put her face in the dust,
struggling to suppress a sob so deep and strong it seemed her
heart was bursting. Almost she wished he might waken.

He had asked for her; she was not forgotten; in his sleep he was
thinking of her. Was it not enough?

Presently mother beckoned to Tirzah, and they arose, and taking
one more look, as if to print his image past fading, hand in
hand they recrossed the street. Back in the shade of the wall
there, they retired and knelt, looking at him, waiting for him
to wake--waiting some revelation, they knew not what. Nobody has
yet given us a measure for the patience of a love like theirs.

By-and-by, the sleep being yet upon him, another woman appeared at
the corner of the palace. The two in the shade saw her plainly in
the light; a small figure, much bent, dark-skinned, gray-haired,
dressed neatly in servant's garb, and carrying a basket full of
vegetables.

At sight of the man upon the step the new-comer stopped; then,
as if decided, she walked on--very lightly as she drew near the
sleeper. Passing round him, she went to the gate, slid the wicket
latch easily to one side, and put her hand in the opening. One of
the broad boards in the left valve swung ajar without noise.
She put the basket through, and was about to follow, when,
yielding to curiosity, she lingered to have one look at the
stranger whose face was below her in open view.

The spectators across the street heard a low exclamation, and saw
the woman rub her eyes as if to renew their power, bend closer down,
clasp her hands, gaze wildly around, look at the sleeper, stoop and
raise the outlying hand, and kiss it fondly--that which they wished
so mightily to do, but dared not.

Awakened by the action, Ben-Hur instinctively withdrew the hand;
as he did so, his eyes met the woman's.

"Amrah! O Amrah, is it thou?" he said.

The good heart made no answer in words, but fell upon his neck,
cryin