To Saul, wrapt in his gloomy contemplations, Rachel unobtrusively presents herself. Conversation ensues between them, and Saul confides to his sister his own most secret purposes and hopes, dashed now so cruelly. The fact, however, at length comes out that Rachel was herself converted to Christianity as a result of Stephen's reply to Saul. Saul instantly hereon experiences a violent revulsion of feeling. He breaks away from Rachel, spurning her, and breathing out threatening and slaughter against the Christian church. SAUL AND RACHEL. Saul thus forlorn, a voice smote on his ear, Voice other than of Shimei, clear and sweet; The very sound was balsam to his pain. Rachel's the voice was, who, with deep distaste, As jealous for her brother, had perceived The entering in to Saul of his late guest Ill-favored, and through all his stay had still, Impatiently awaiting, wished him sped. He now some moments gone, she issued forth From out her curtained chamber glimpsing gay Behind her, through the hangings, as she passed, With color--stuff of scarlet, linen fine Embroidered, weft of purple tapestry, Her handiwork--and sending after her Sweet scent of herb and flower, her husbandry-- Forth issued, and across the inner court Open to heaven--small close of paradise, A tall palm by a fountain, bloomy shrubs, And vines that clad with green the enclosing walls-- Stepped lightly to Saul's side. Saul sat beneath A tent-cloth canopy outspread, his own Tent-making skill--the high noon of the sun To fend, if place perchance one then might wish In which free air to breathe safe from the heat-- There sat relapsed, deep brooding gloomy thoughts, When now his sister pausing stood by him. A lovely vision! Moving, or at rest, Ever a rapture Rachel seemed of grace Which but that moment that felicity Of posture or of gesture had attained, By accident, yet kept it, through all change, Inalienably hers, by right divine Of inward rhythm that swayed her heart in tune. The sister had, with love's observance, watched Some days the phases of her brother's mood, Biding her time to speak; and now she spoke. "Brother," she murmured softly, "thou art sad. Thy brow is written over like a scroll With lines of trouble that I try to read. Unbind thy heart, I pray, to me, who grieve To see thee grieve, and fain at least would share Such brother's sorrow as I may not soothe."