in her sweet voice, "you do not dream. I am
Miriam."

In an instant he was at her side and held her in his arms, nor did she
resist him, for after so many fears and sufferings they seemed to her a
home.

"Loose me, I pray you," she said at length, "I am faint, I can bear no
more."

At her entreaty he suffered her to sink upon the cushions of a couch
that was at hand.

"Tell me, tell me everything," he said.

"Ask it of Nehushta," she answered, leaning back. "I am spent."

Nehushta ran to her side and began to chafe her hands. "Let be with
your questions," she said. "I bought her, that's enough. Ask that old
huckster, Stephanus, the price. But first in the name of charity give
her food. Those who have walked through a Triumph to end the day on the
slave block need victuals."

"It is here, it is here," Marcus said confusedly, "such as there is."
Taking a lamp he led the way to a table that was placed in the shadow,
where stood some meat and fruit with flagons of rich coloured wine and
pure water and shallow silver cups to drink from.

Putting her arm about Miriam's waist, Nehushta supported her to the
table and sat her down upon one of the couches. Then she poured out wine
and put it to her lips, and cut meat and made her swallow it till Miriam
would touch no more. Now the colour came back to her face, and her eyes
grew bright again, and resting there upon the couch, she listened while
Nehushta told Marcus all the story of the slave sale.

"Well done," he said, laughing in his old merry fashion, "well done,
indeed! Oh! what favouring god put it into the head of that honest old
miser, Stephanus, from year to year to hoard up all that sum of gold
against an hour of sudden need which none could foresee!"

"My God and hers," answered Nehushta solemnly, "to Whom if He give you
space, you should be thankful, which, by the way, is more than Stephanus
is, who has seen so much of your savings squandered in an hour."

"Your savings?" said Miriam, looking up. "Did you buy me, Marcus?"

"I suppose so, beloved," he answered.

"Then, then, I am your slave?"

"Not so, Miriam," he replied nervously. "As you know well, it is I who
am yours. All I ask of you is that you should become my wife."

"That cannot be, Marcus," she answered in a kind of cry. "You know that
it cannot be."

His face turned pale.

"After all that has come and gone between us, Miriam, do you still say
so?"

"I still say so."

"You could give