“You have your wish,” said Amram; “Herod is dead or dying, and now, I suppose, as his son is but a child, that we shall be ruled by some accursed thief of a Roman procurator with a pocket like a sack without a bottom. Surely that old bishop of yours who preached in the amphitheatre this morning, must have had a hint of what was coming, from his familiar spirit; or perhaps he saw the owl and guessed its errand. Moreover, I think that troubles are brewing for others besides Herod, since the old man said as much.” “What became of him and the rest?” asked Nehushta. “Oh! a few were trampled to death, and others the Jews stirred up the mob to stone, saying that they had bewitched the king, which they, who were disappointed of the games, did gladly. Some, however, are said to have escaped, and, like yourselves, lie in hiding.” Nehushta glanced at her mistress, now fast asleep, her pale face resting on her arm. “The world is hard—for Christians,” she said. “Friend, it is hard for all, as, were I to tell you my own story, even you would admit,” and he sighed. “At least you Christians believe in something beyond,” he went on; “for you death is but a bridge leading to a glorious city, and I trust that you may be right. Is not your mistress delicate?” Nehushta nodded. “She was never very strong, and sorrow has done its work with her. They killed her husband at Berytus yonder, and—her trouble is very near.” “Yes, yes, I heard that story, also that his blood is on the hands of her own father, Benoni. Ah! who is so cruel as a bigot Jew? Not we Phœnicians even, of whom they say such evil. Once I had a daughter”—here his hard face softened—“but let be, let be! Look you, the risk is great, but what I can do I will do to save her, and you also, friend, since, Libyan or no, you are a faithful woman. Nay, do not doubt me. I have given my word, and if I break it willingly, then may I perish and be devoured of dogs. My ship is small and undecked. In that she shall not sail, but a big galley weighs for Alexandria to-night, calling at Apollonia and Joppa, and in it I will take you passages, saying that the lady is a relative of mine and that you are her slave. This is my advice to you—that you go straight to Egypt, where there are many Christians who will protect you for a while. Thence your mistress can write to her father, and if he will receive her, return. If not, at least she will be safe, since no writ of Herod runs in Alexandria, and there they do not love the Jews.” “Your counsel seems good,” said Nehushta, “if she will consent to it.” “She must consent who, indeed, is in no case to make other plans. Now let me go. Before nightfall I will return again with food and clothing, and lead you to the ship.” Nehushta hesitated. “I say to you, do not fear. Will you not trust me?”