As the spring day waned to its close, Anna’s eyes ached with the continuous work, till pearls and gold thread looked one confused mass; she laid aside her frame, and invited Rebekah to accompany her to the Cæmeteria, as soon as the shadows fell upon the city, and they might pass unnoticed. Rebekah hesitated a little, but finally agreed to bear Anna company, stipulating that she might return if she heard anything spoken against the God of Jacob in the place where Anna said she would be instructed in her faith. “Nay, you can hear no word against the God of Jacob, for He is our God for ever and ever,” Anna answered. “You will hear of his Son the Deliverer, whom your people, knowing not what they did, nailed to the cross.” Rebekah shook her head. “Our Jehovah would never suffer Messiah to perish like a malefactor, it was contrary to His nature. He is the Lord God merciful and gracious.” “But,” Anna quietly added, “He will in no wise spare the guilty.” “We have sacrifices offered for sins once a year,” was the reply, with a proud sense of security. “But this one sacrifice of Christ, once offered, avails for all time and for all people.” “Well,” the young Jewess said, “I will accompany you, for it is at least a diversion. I am weary of pining for my espoused husband Joel. He has departed hence and I have had no tidings of him for two years, and I can scarce bear my life shut up in this dull corner of Rome, while I know in Jerusalem I should have a high place in all the feasts and joyful meetings of my own people. It was a woeful day for me when my father Ezekiel came hither.” Rebekah was a fine Jewish woman, with the strongly-marked features and raven hair of her race, but her face was hard, and the expression of her mouth cross and discontented. “I loathe this place,” she repeated, “and I marvel how any one like you can abide here. You are bound by no tie to old Ezra.” “Yes, a strong tie,” Anna said; “by the death of his daughter my life was saved. I must be as a daughter to him while I live.” “Well, I would not count such a man as a father,” was Rebekah’s reply. “When shall we start? the sun has nearly set.” “As soon as you please,” Anna replied; “I must get ready my long cloak, and cover my head, and set out the evening meal, and light the lamp in the outer court, that Ezra may find all ready, and think I am gone to rest.” “Then do not tarry,” Rebekah said, “for I am cramped with sitting on the low cushion, and long for air and sights and sounds pleasanter than those which greet me here. Hark! there’s the sound of a multitude shouting, there must be sport in the arena; food for the lions, no doubt.” CHAPTER X. SUNSET.