o take breath, that she heard the
thud of the rock door closing behind her. Still, as it was dark, she did
not guess that Miriam was parted from them, for she said:

"Ah! into what troubles do not these men lead us poor women. Well, just
in time, and I think that none of them saw us."

There was no answer. Sound could not pierce that wall and the place was
silent as a tomb.

"Lady! In the Name of Christ, where are you, lady?" asked Nehushta in
a piercing whisper, and the echoes of the gallery answered--"Where are
you, lady?"

Just then Marcus awoke.

"What has chanced? What place is this, Miriam?" he asked.

"This has chanced," answered Nehushta in the same awful voice. "We are
in the passage leading to the vaults; Miriam is in the hands of the Jews
in the Old Tower, and the door is shut between us. Accursed Roman! to
save your life she has sacrificed herself. Without doubt she sprang from
the door to dash the lantern from the hand of the Jew, and before she
could return again it had swung home. Now they will crucify her because
she rescued you--a Roman."

"Don't talk, woman," broke in Marcus savagely, "open the door. I am
still a man, I can still fight, or," he added with a groan, remembering
that he had no sword, "at the least I can die for her."

"I cannot," gasped Nehushta. "She had the iron that lifts the secret
latch. If you had kept your sword, Roman, it might perhaps have served,
but that has gone also."

"Break it down," said Marcus. "Come, I will help."

"Yes, yes, Roman, you will help to break down three feet of solid
stone."

Then began that hideous scene whereof something has been said. Nehushta
strove to reach the latch with her fingers. Marcus, standing upon one
foot, strove to shake the stone with his shoulder, the black, silent
stone that never so much as stirred. Yet they worked madly, their breath
coming in great gasps, knowing that the work was in vain, and that even
if they could open the door, by now it would be to find Miriam gone,
or at the best to be taken themselves. Suddenly Marcus ceased from his
labour.

"Lost!" he moaned, "and for my sake. O ye gods! for my sake." Then
down he fell, his harness clattering on the rocky step, and lay there,
muttering and laughing foolishly.

Nehushta ceased also, gasping: "The Lord help you, Miriam, for I cannot.
Oh! after all these years to lose you thus, and because of that man!"
and she glared through the darkness towards the fallen Marcus