A deathly paleness overspread the face of the poor, tempted young creature; she wept. But ere long the weakness passed again. Looking mildly upon her accusers and the judges, she said, solemnly, “Ye _know_ that life is very sweet to me, for I am young—that it is very fair to me, ye know, for there are some ties binding me to the dear world, very hard to break. I have said that the charge spoken against me is untrue; and the God of heaven knows that I have spoken honestly to you. It is He who hath given me strength in this hour to declare that death, even the horrible death you have said awaits me, is to be chosen rather than life and recreancy to my religion—it is He who will support me in the fiery trial.” “My daughter,” exclaimed Raguel, “oh, take back those words! God surely will forgive thee. I cannot lose thee! Wilt thou not choose as they desire, then thou art still mine own? Thou hast not thought, Myrrah, thou canst not guess the death of torture that awaits thee.” “I know it all, dear father. But God will give me strength. The sin and the shame of this deed rests not on us. No! thy long life of integrity and steadfastness to the faith of our fathers shall not be shamed by me. Thou couldst not desire it, my father!” “Oh, Myrrah, for _my_ sake, then!” cried Othniel, for the first time speaking, as he approached hurriedly and threw himself at her feet. “Retract that determination while the pasha will permit thee. Wilt thou leave me to die of grief; or more awful fate, to live alone without thee in this dark world? Take back thy word. I entreat thee, believe in their prophet, and live!” There were no tearless eyes in that people gathered in the pasha’s presence; in breathless interest turned they all to the young girl, hoping to see her stern determination giving way to these appeals. Myrrah turned her gaze from him, the passionate appealing of Othniel’s dark eyes was more than she could bear, but her will bore her up gloriously, though the voice, which shook as the aspen, told how poor human nature suffered in that conflict between the pleadings of love and the stern sense of duty. “Othniel, it is between my God and thee I am called to determine. Thou canst not secure to me life and thyself even one day, but _He_ can give me, when one short pang is passed, an eternity of bliss; and _thou_ mayest share it, my father! Othniel, would ye have me choose for time—for earth?” There came no answer to the noble girl’s appeal. None dared to offer one persuading word when this solemn reply of the Jewess was made. “Hast thou chosen, maiden?” said the pasha at length, in a voice that was scarcely audible. “I have,” was the reply; “thy people are not my people, I dare not confess thy God, and in so doing forsake and deny mine own.” When this answer was given, the pasha, by a violent exertion mastered his emotion, and arose, saying,