“I saw him not, and if I had seen him, what am I to him?” “If you had asked him, might he not have done it?” “I believe, aunt; I believe, Salathiel, that he _could_ have saved the life of Reuben.” “Would he not, then, raise him now?” “I do believe he _could_—I have faith in his _power_. But I would not be presumptuous. Yet, yet—oh, that Reuben might be restored to me?” “Amen!” said Salathiel, “Amen!” and the deep tone of voice, and the upward turn of his eyes, told how truly his heart responded to the prayer of his cousin. Two hearts were then united in solemn petition. There was _faith_, but none thought of _hope_. After a few minutes of solemn silence, the eyes of Miriam were turned mournfully, and yet eagerly, toward the hill beyond the city’s wall. “They are passing upward,” said Deborah to her; “the procession moves toward the brow of the hill, but, alas! the dust of the road conceals the train.” They all looked forth to follow with their eyes as long as possible the mournful procession. “But what is there?” exclaimed Deborah, pointing to a column of dust which denoted a crowd of people descending the hill toward the funeral. “The procession has passed,” said Miriam. “Both parties have stopped,” exclaimed Deborah. Salathiel looked earnestly out and said, in a low voice, but with much feeling, “Do the Romans come to insult us even when we bury our dead? We are a _conquered_ people, but we are not _slaves_.” “Hush!” said Miriam, “hush, my brother! let us not at this moment forget the teaching of the Master.” Salathiel leaned forward and kissed the brow of Miriam. “I thank you, I thank you, Miriam, for the monition, and I bless you for the term, brother; henceforth, my sister, know me for such. But let me go forth to learn what hath turned our people from their sepulchral rites.” Salathiel went forth, and Miriam, kneeling, buried her face in the lap of her aunt, and poured out her soul in prayer—deep, anguished, heart-engendered, heart-and-heaven-moving prayer. It was some time before the low voice of Miriam ceased. But her feelings had been overwrought, and at length she lay silent yet suffering, with her head still on Deborah’s knees. The quiet of the street and even of the chamber was at length disturbed by the confused footfall of a multitude who seemed to press onward with few words, and those uttered in a subdued tone. The multitude at length paused in front of the dwelling of Miriam, and the opening of the front door intimated that the procession of the people had some connection with the inmates of the house. The door of Miriam’s chamber at length opened, and Salathiel stood before the two women pale and agitated. “My sister, praise the Lord! A miracle has been wrought.” The agitated maiden shrunk into the arms of her aunt as she gazed toward Salathiel. “What,” exclaimed the aunt, “what is it, Salathiel? Speak?” “Reuben—” “Reuben!” exclaimed Miriam. “Reuben lives!” “Where—where is he?”