“Who am I to make you rush into peril for my poor sake? If you hide me from the king, his fury will turn against you, and against my father. How can you save me? Go to Mermaza. Tell him he may take me when he wills. I can endure all rather than ruin those I love.” She stood before her lover with head erect, eyes flashing. The glory of a great sacrifice had sent the colour crimsoning through her cheeks. If beautiful before, how much more beautiful now, in the sight of her betrothed! Had she counted the cost of her word? No, doubtless; but for the moment she was the girl no more, but the strong woman ready to dare and to do all. But Isaiah answered her with a sternness never shown by him to her till now: “Peace! You know not what you say. What profit is my life, with you sent to a living death in Belshazzar’s impure clutch? There is but one thing left.” “Away! Leave me!” she implored, new agony chasing across her face. “Is it not enough that I should be victim? Those who cross Belshazzar’s path are seekers for death.” “Peace!” repeated Isaiah, and not ungently he thrust his hand across her mouth. “Must the whole house hear us? You, Zerubbabel, indeed, begone. You can only add to your peril, not aid.” The guardsman hesitated. “If I can do aught—” he began. “Avoid suspicion,” commanded Isaiah; “if you learn of anything new plotted, forewarn. In so doing you prove truest friend.” “The Lord God keep you, dear lady,” protested the guardsman, kissing her robe; “believe me, I am your and your father’s friend, though men say I bow down to Bel-Marduk.” He had vanished; and Isaiah looked upon Ruth, and Ruth back to Isaiah. The peril had broken upon her so suddenly that she was yet numbed. She had not realized all she had to fear, and the ordeal awaiting. But if her lover realized, he proved his anguish by act, not word. “Ruth,” spoke he, “your father knew the king had not forgotten you, though that the deed was planned so soon was hid. He has ridden to Borsippa to see if Imbi-Ilu will shelter you at the temple of Nabu. If we await his return, it will be too late. The shadows are falling already. You must quit this house without delay.” “I am ready,” she answered, but she spoke mechanically, not knowing what she said. Old Simeon, the porter, had approached, his honest face all anxiety for his betters. “My mistress is in trouble? Zerubbabel brought ill news?” he ventured, not presuming more. But Isaiah ordered sharply:— “Let the closed carriage be made ready at once.” “The closed carriage? For the mistress? My Lord Daniel commanded—” hesitated the worthy; but Isaiah’s tone grew peremptory. “Daniel’s commands weigh nothing now. Were he here, he would order the same. No questions; hasten.” The stern ring in the young man’s voice ended all parley. Simeon shuffled away to rouse the stable grooms, and Isaiah turned once more to Ruth.