“This one.”
She clasped her hands, and looked up thankfully.
“For whom takest thou him?” the man asked, with pity.
“The Son of God,” she replied.
“Stay thou here then; or, as there is a multitude with him, take thy stand by the rock yonder, the white one under the tree; and as he goeth by fail not to call to him; call, and fear not.
If thy faith but equal thy knowledge, he will hear thee though all the heavens thunder.
I go to tell Israel, assembled in and about the city, that he is at hand, and to make ready to receive him.
Peace to thee and thine, woman.”
The stranger moved on.
“Did you hear, Tirzah?
Did you hear?
The Nazarene is on the road, on this one, and he will hear us.
Once more, my child— oh, only once! and let us to the rock.
It is but a step.”
Thus encouraged Tirzah took Amrah’s hand and arose; but as they were going, Amrah said,
“Stay; the man is returning.”
And they waited for him.
“I pray your grace, woman,” he said, upon overtaking them. “Remembering that the sun will be hot before the Nazarene arrives, and that the city is near by to give me refreshment should I need it, I thought this water would do thee better than it will me.
Take it and be of good cheer.
Call to him as he passes.”
He followed the words by offering her a gourd full of water, such as foot-travellers sometimes carried with them in their journeys across the hills; and instead of placing the gift on the ground for her to take up when he was at a safe distance, he gave it into her hand.
“Art thou a Jew?” she asked, surprised.
“I am that, and better; I am a disciple of the Christ who teacheth daily by word and example this thing which I have done unto you.
The world hath long known the word charity without understanding it.
Again I say peace and good cheer to thee and thine.”
He went on, and they went slowly to the rock he had pointed out to them, high as their heads, and scarcely thirty yards from the road on the right.
Standing in front of it, the mother satisfied herself they could be seen and heard plainly by passers-by whose notice they desired to attract.
There they cast themselves under the tree in its shade, and drank of the gourd, and rested refreshed.
Ere long Tirzah slept, and fearing to disturb her, the others held their peace.
Chapter 4
During the third hour the road in front of the resting-place of the lepers became gradually more and more frequented by people going in the direction of Bethphage and Bethany; now, however, about the commencement of the fourth hour, a great crowd appeared over the crest of Olivet, and as it defiled down the road thousands in number, the two watchers noticed with wonder that every one in it carried a palm-branch freshly cut.
As they sat absorbed by the novelty, the noise of another multitude approaching from the east drew their eyes that way.
Then the mother awoke Tirzah.
“What is the meaning of it all?” the latter asked.
“He is coming,” answered the mother. “These we see are from the city going to meet him; those we hear in the east are his friends bearing him company; and it will not be strange if the processions meet here before us.
“I fear, if they do, we cannot be heard.”
The same thought was in the elder’s mind.
“Amrah,” she asked, “when Judah spoke of the healing of the ten, in what words did he say they called to the Nazarene?”
“Either they said,
‘Lord, have mercy upon us,’ or ’Master, have mercy.’”
“Only that?”
“No more that I heard.”
“Yet it was enough,” the mother added, to herself.
“Yes,” said Amrah, “Judah said he saw them go away well.”
Meantime the people in the east came up slowly.
When at length the foremost of them were in sight, the gaze of the lepers fixed upon a man riding in the midst of what seemed a chosen company which sang and danced about him in extravagance of joy.
The rider was bareheaded and clad all in white.
When he was in distance to be more clearly observed, these, looking anxiously, saw an olive-hued face shaded by long chestnut hair slightly sunburned and parted in the middle.
He looked neither to the right nor left.
In the noisy abandon of his followers he appeared to have no part; nor did their favor disturb him in the least, or raise him out of the profound melancholy into which, as his countenance showed, he was plunged.