And the fiery youth promised it—revenge and hate—all the evil passions which have to do with life, died that day within him—the future time, after that woful night on which he thought with agony, heaven with Myrrah was all he dared to hope or think of—it was a thought of blessedness—a dream, a hope which the merciful spirit of God breathed into his soul when it laid in the dust of despair. The hours of daylight waned, night was fast approaching—then came forth from the prison cell Othniel, and on his arm was leaning the stricken father, Raguel. The old man’s eyes had looked their last upon the fair young idol which he worshiped with a reverence approaching that which he held for his Maker. He wept not as the guard turned the key behind him on the iron door, which would open again ere long that _she_ might be led forth to—death. He made no resistance as they went with him to his deserted dwelling. A sense of the awful bereavement seemed to have passed away—he even smiled as they led him through the cheerful rooms of the home that was always made blessed by her presence—and said how pleasant it was to be in one’s home again, away from the dark and frightful prison. There was a bird of splendid plumage caged in the old man’s parlor, (every portion of which bore evidence of a woman’s frequent presence and exquisite taste,) it was the young girl’s pet—the gift of Othniel in days long since gone by. The noise of the intruders on the silence of the house, startled the little warbler, and he poured forth the most delicious flood of melody; the sound aroused the old man, with an exclamation of delight he threw himself upon the couch near by, and listened in rapt astonishment and joy to the exquisite songster. Filled with gloomy foreboding as he noticed this sudden and total change in the old Jew, Othniel left him in the care of gentle friends, and hastened away in the direction of the prison once more. The sun was setting as he neared the great walls, and the youth saw a procession moving from the gates, and a band of soldiers was guarding the death-doomed prisoner! The crowd gathered and increased with every step of the slowly moving procession—in solemn silence Jew and Mahommedan strode together, for the moment forgetful of all save the mournful cause which brought them there. A moment Othniel moved on hastily, he would rejoin Myrrah, would be with her to the last—then a remembrance of his own weakness, and of the effect his sorrow might produce upon her, stayed him—and apart from the crowd he walked or crept, slowly and heavily, for the burden of his unutterable sorrow was too great to bear. Afar in the distance, beyond the confines of the town, the funeral pile was to be made—the sacrifice pure and innocent as was ever brought to the altar, was to be offered up.