She wished to keep that ring until the end, if
so she might. As for the pearls, she could not hide them, and though she
loved them as his gift--well, they must go to the hand of the spoiler,
and to the necks of other women, who would never know their tale.
This done Miriam rose to her knees and began to pray with the vivid,
simple faith that was given to the first children of the Church. She
prayed for Marcus, that he might recover and not forget her, and that
the light of truth might shine upon him; for Nehushta, that her sorrow
might be soothed; for herself, that her end might be merciful and her
awakening happy; for Caleb, that his heart might be turned; for the dead
and dying, that their sins might be forgiven; for the little children,
that the Lord of Pity would have pity on their sufferings; for the
people of the Jews, that He would lift the rod of His wrath from off
them; yes, and even for the Romans, though for these, poor maid, she
knew not what petition to put up.
Her prayer finished, once more Miriam strove to sleep and dozed a
little, to be aroused by a curious sound of feeble sighing, which seemed
to come from the further side of the cell. By now the dawn was streaming
through the stone lattice work above the doorway, and in its faint light
Miriam saw the outlines of a figure with snowy hair and beard, wrapped
in a filthy robe that had once been white.
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