The old man was on his death-bed, for age,
hardship, and anxiety had done their work with him, so that now he was
unable to stand, but reclined upon a pallet awaiting his release. To him
they told their story.
"God is merciful," he said, when he had heard it. "I feared that she
might be dead, for in the presence of so much desolation, my faith grows
weak."
"It may be so," answered Marcus, "but your merciful God will allow this
maiden to be set up in the Forum at Rome and sold to the highest bidder.
It would have been better that she perished on the gate Nicanor."
"Perhaps this same God," answered Ithiel with a faint smile, "will
deliver her from that fate, as He has delivered her from many others.
Now what do you seek, my lord Marcus?"
"I seek liberty, which hitherto you have refused to me, Ithiel. I must
travel to Rome as fast as ships and horses can carry me. I desire to
be present at that auction of the captives. At least, I am rich and can
purchase Miriam--unless I am too late."
"Purchase her to be your slave?"
"Nay, to be my wife."
"She will not marry you; you are not a Christian."
"Then, if she asks it, to set her free. Man, would it not be better that
she should fall into my hands than into those of the first passer-by who
chances to take a fancy to her face?"
"Yes, I think it is better," answered Ithiel, "though who am I that I
should judge? Let the Court be summoned and at once.
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