, till at length the first harvest came and with it plenty.

In this dry and wholesome air Marcus recovered rapidly, who by nature
was very strong. When first his wits returned to him he recognised
Nehushta, and asked her what had chanced. She told him all she knew, and
that she believed Miriam to be dead, tidings which caused him to
fall into a deep melancholy. Meanwhile, the Essenes treated him with
kindness, but let him understand that he was their prisoner. Nor if he
had wished it, and they had given him leave to go, could he have left
them at that time, seeing that the slightest of his hurts proved to be
the worst, since the spear or sword-cut having penetrated to the joint
and let out the oil, the wound in his knee would heal only by very slow
degrees, and for many weeks left him so lame that he could not walk
without a crutch. So here he sat by the banks of the Jordan, mourning
the past and well-nigh hopeless for the future.

Thus in solitude, tended by Nehushta, who now had grown very grim and
old, and by the poor remnant of the Essenes, Marcus passed four or five
miserable months. As he grew stronger he would limp down to the village
where his hosts were engaged in rebuilding some of their dwellings, and
sit in the garden of the house that was once occupied by Miriam. Now it
was but an overgrown place, yet among the pomegranate bushes still stood
that shed which she had used as a workshop, and in it, lying here and
there as they had fallen, some of her unfinished marbles, among them one
of himself which she began and cast aside before she executed that bust
which Nero had named divine and set him to guard in the Temple at Rome.
To Marcus it was a sad place, haunted by a thousand memories, yet he
loved it because those memories were all of Miriam.

Titus, said rumour, having accomplished the utter destruction of
Jerusalem, had moved his army to Caesarea or Berytus, where he passed the
winter season in celebrating games in the amphitheatres. These he made
splendid by the slaughter of vast numbers of Jewish prisoners, who were
forced to fight against each other, or, after the cruel Roman fashion,
exposed to the attacks of ravenous wild beasts. But although he thought
of doing so, Marcus had no means of communicating with Titus, and was
still too lame to attempt escape. Could he have found any, indeed, to
make use of them might have brought destruction upon the Essenes, who
had treated him kindly and saved his lif