nd to bring doom upon
the brethren, and upon you, our guest and lady. I refused to answer,
so, having tortured me without avail, they cast me in here to starve,
thinking that hunger would make me speak. But I have not spoken. How
could I, who have taken the oath of the Essenes, and been their ruler?
Now at length I die."

"Oh! say not so," said Miriam, wringing her hands.

"I do say it and I am thankful. Have you any food?"

"Yes, a piece of dried meat and barley bread, which chanced to be in my
robe when I was captured. Take them and eat."

"Nay, Miriam, that desire has gone from me, nor do I wish to live, whose
days are done. But save the food, for doubtless they will starve you
also. And, look, there is water in that jar, they gave it me to make
me live the longer. Drink, drink while you can, who to-morrow may be
thirsty."

For a time there was silence, while the tears that gathered in Miriam's
eyes fell upon the old man's face.

"Weep not for me," he said presently, "who go to my rest. How came you
here?"

She told him as briefly as she might.

"You are a brave woman," he said when she had finished, "and that Roman
owes you much. Now I, Theophilus, who am about to die, call down the
blessing of God upon you, and upon him also for your sake, for your
sake. The shield of God be over you in the slaughter and the sorrow."

Then he shut his eyes and either could not or would not speak again.

Miriam drank of the pitcher of water, for her thirst was great. Crouched
at the side of the old Essene, she watched him till at length the door
opened, and two gaunt, savage-looking men entered, who went to where
Theophilus lay and kicked him brutally.

"What would you now?" he said, opening his eyes.

"Wake up, old man," cried one of them. "See, here is flesh," and he
thrust a lump of some filthy carrion to his lips. "Smell it, taste it,"
he went on, "ah! is it not good? Well, tell us where is that store of
food which made you so fat who now are so thin, and you shall have it
all, yes, all, all."

Theophilus shook his head.

"Bethink you," cried the man, "if you do not eat, by sunrise to-morrow
you will be dead. Speak then and eat, obstinate dog, it is your last
chance."

"I eat not and I tell not," answered the aged martyr in a voice like a
hollow groan. "By to-morrow's sunrise I shall be dead, and soon you
and all this people will be dead, and God will have judged each of us
according to his works. Repent you,