'I am ready,' said Miriam; and for a moment she covered her face with
her right hand. 'Think of me, sweet maidens; pray for me!'

Leaning on Caleb, and lighted by a gaoler, bearing torches, Miriam
descended the damp and broken stairs that led to the dungeon. She
faltered as she arrived at the grate. She stopped, and leant against the
cold and gloomy wall. The gaoler and Caleb preceded her. She heard the
voice of Alroy. It was firm and sweet. Its accents reassured her. Caleb
came forth with a torch, and held it to her feet; and, as he bent down,
he said, 'My lord bade me beg you to be of good heart, for he is.'

The gaoler, having stuck his torch in the niche, withdrew. Miriam
desired Caleb to stay without. Then, summoning up all her energies, she
entered the dreadful abode. Alroy was standing to receive her. The
light fell full upon his countenance. It smiled. Miriam could no longer
restrain herself. She ran forward, and pressed him to her heart.

'O, my best, my long beloved,' whispered Alroy; 'such a meeting indeed
leads captivity captive!'

But the sister could not speak. She leant her head upon his shoulder,
and closed her eyes, that she might not weep.

'Courage, dear heart; courage, courage!' whispered the captive. 'Indeed
I am happy!'

'My brother, my brother!'

'Had we met yesterday, you would have found me perhaps a little vexed.
But to-day I am myself again. Since I crossed the Tigris, I know not
that I have felt such self-content. I have had sweet dreams, dear
Miriam, full of solace. And, more than dreams, the Lord has pardoned me,
I truly think.'

'O, my brother! your words are full of comfort; for, indeed, I too have
dreamed, and dreamed of consolation. My spirit, since our fall, has
never been more tranquil.'

'Indeed I am happy.'

'Say so again, my David; let me hear again these words of solace!'

'Indeed, 'tis very true, my faithful friend. It is not spoken in
kind mockery to make you joyous. For know, last eve, whether the Lord
repented of his wrath, or whether some dreadful trials, of which I will
not speak, and wish not to remember, had made atonement for my manifold
sins, but so it was, that, about the time my angel Miriam sent her
soothing message, a feeling of repose came over me, such as I long have
coveted. Anon, I fell into a slumber, deep and sweet, and, instead of
those wild and whirling images that of late have darted from my brain
when it should rest, glimpses of empire and c