He was speaking to
himself.
"I can bear it no longer," he said. "Thrice have I been to the gate and
still no sign. Doubtless the plan has miscarried and by now she is in
the palace of Domitian. I will go forth and learn the worst," and he
rose from the table.
"Speak to him," whispered Nehushta, pushing Miriam forward.
She advanced into the circle of the lamplight, but as yet Marcus did not
see her, for he had gone to the window-place to find a cloak that lay
there. Then he turned and saw her. Before him in her robe of white, the
soft light shining on her gentle loveliness, stood Miriam. He stared at
her bewildered.
"Do I dream?" he said.
"Nay, Marcus," she answered 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.
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