“I send you a present, praying that you will accept it. The emerald in the ring is cut by my friend, the sculptor Glaucus. The pearls are fine and have a history which I hope to tell you some day. Wear them always, beloved Miriam, for my sake. I do not forget your words; nay, I ponder them day and night. But at least you said you loved me, and in wearing these trinkets you break no duty to the dead. Write to me, I pray you, if you can find a messenger. Or, if you cannot write, think of me always as I do of you. Oh, that we were back together in that happy village of the Essenes, to whom, as to yourself, be all good fortune! Farewell. “Your ever faithful friend and lover, “Marcus.” Miriam finished her letter, kissed it, and hid it in her bosom. Then she opened the packet and unlocked the ivory box within by a key that hung to it. Out of the casket she took a roll of soft leather. This she undid and uttered a little cry of joy, for there lay a necklace of the most lovely pearls that she had ever seen. Nor was this all, for threaded on the pearls was a ring, and cut upon its emerald bezel the head of Marcus, and her own head taken from the likeness she had given him. “Look! Nou, look!” said Miriam, showing her the beauteous trinkets. “A sight to make old eyes glisten,” answered Nehushta handling them. “I know something of pearls, and these are worth a fortune. Happy maid, to whom is given such a lover.” “Unhappy maid who can never be a happy wife,” sighed Miriam, her blue eyes filling with tears. “Grieve not; that still may chance,” answered Nehushta, as she fastened the pearls about Miriam’s neck. “At least you have heard from him and he still loves you, which is much. Now for the ring—the marriage finger—see, how it fits.” “Nay, I have no right,” murmured Miriam; still she did not draw it off again. “Come, let us be going,” said Nehushta, hiding the casket in her amble robe, “for the sun sinks, and to-night there are guests to supper.” “What guests?” asked Miriam absently. “Plotters, every one,” said Nehushta, shrugging her shoulders. “The great scheme to drive the Romans from the Holy City ripens fast, and your grandsire waters its root. I pray that we may not all of us gather bitter grapes from that vine. Have you heard that Caleb is back in Tyre?” “Caleb!” faltered Miriam, “No.” “Well, he is. He arrived yesterday and will be among the guests to-night. He has been fighting up in the desert there, and bravely, for I am told that he was one of those who seized the fortress of Masada and put its Roman garrison to the sword.” “Then he is against the Romans?” “Yes, because he hopes to rule the Jews, and risks much to gain more.” “I do not wish to meet him,” said Miriam. “Nay, but you must, and the sooner the better. Why do you fear the man?” “I know not, but fear him I do, now and always.”