"Yes, child, bring your harp: it will serve to amuse our ears until my father returns." Naomi obeyed, for she felt that music would be better than conversation in Javan's present mood. She took up her harp from the pedestal on which it lay in the anteroom, and entered the apartment where her mother sat, working at her embroidery by the light of a richly-chased silver lamp. Deborah had joined her after she had met Naomi and her companions at the entrance, and was now occupied in the same manner as her mistress, assisted also by two of Salome's maidens. The rabbi reclined on one of the couches which were placed around the supper-table, according to the Jewish manner of sitting at their meals; and the whole arrangement of the apartment bespoke cheerfulness and comfort. The hearts of several of its inmates responded not to the bright scene around them. Naomi approached her mother, and affectionately saluted her, whispering at the same time,-- "Javan looks unhappy and oppressed with care. Do not notice it, dear mother, but I will sing his gloom away." So saying, she seated herself on a cushion at Salome's feet, and striking a few chords on her harp, sang in her wildest, sweetest tones, her brother's favourite song; which she herself had composed when first the Roman army threatened the safety of Zion: "Sing to the Lord! Oh sing His praise! Sons of Israel, loudly raise Your voices to the King of kings-- Listen how all nature sings! The golden spheres that roll above-- The air that breathes around-- And all created things that move, Declare the great Jehovah's love, To earth's remotest bound. Angels, who dwell on high, In realms beyond the sky, Strike your immortal harps of gold, And sing how Israel's God, of old Displayed His power. Now may His banner be again unfurled; And shouts of triumph tell from land to land, That God on high hath raised His mighty hand, And, from their boasted height of glory, hurled Our foes in this dark hour!" "It is long since I have heard that song, my Naomi," said her mother. "It once was the hymn you loved best to sing: but latterly you have preferred more sorrowful strains." "My spirit has lost that joyous feeling of confidence in the triumph of my country, that animated it when I first sang that song, dear mother. But Javan used to take delight in it; and I have tried to recall it now." Naomi looked at her brother, hoping for a kind reply; but the forced smile had left his features, and their naturally stern expression had returned. He sat with folded arms, and his eyes cast down; while the compression of his lips and contraction of his brow betokened a fixed and a painful resolution. Probably he knew not that his sister had selected his favourite hymn to please him; though he was glad that the sound of her sweet voice gave him an excuse for continuing his moody silence.