It was with unspeakable satisfaction that Sherah and her mother found that Asru had at last broken all connection with the prophet, but a change had come into his manner which was to them most unaccountable.  Instead of cruelty now was kindness; instead of stormy petulance, now was patience; and yet, Asru had not mentioned the cause of his new life.  A sort of backwardness on the subject, a desire to know more of it before communicating with others, strove with him against the dictates of his conscience, and he had as yet been dumb.  He had not concealed his connection with the little band of Jewish Christians.  In spite of the jeers of his friends among the Koreish, he had attended their meetings regularly.  That had been the extent of his active Christian work; yet his life had been preaching while his lips were still.

Sherah and her mother talked of him as they walked.

“Mother, however it be, father was never kind until he went to the Jewish meetings.”

“True.  Yet many of these same Jews are wicked, thieves, low robbers, not fit for such as Asru to mingle with,” said the mother haughtily.

“Yet not the Jews who attend the church,” returned the girl, quickly.  “I know them.  Most of them are poor, but not thieves; they seem quiet, industrious people.  Then, Amzi attends there now, you know, and Yusuf, who, when the plague was raging, spent weeks in attending the sick.  Did he not come to father and sit with him night after night, when, mother—­I shame to say it—­both you and I fled!”

The mother walked in silence for a moment.

“There must be some strange power that urges a man to do such acts,” she said, musingly.  “It would be easier far to go out to battle, urged on by the enthusiasm of conquest, and cheered by the music and clash of timbrels to deeds of bravery.  It takes a different spirit to enter the houses of filthy disease, to court death in reeking lazar-houses, to sit for weeks watching hideous faces and listening to the ravings of madmen through the long, hot nights of the plague-season.”

“Mother, I am convinced that their religion prompts them to do it.  What else can it be?”

“What is their religion?”

“I know not; yet we may know for the going, perhaps.  See, the lights gleam in their little hall.  They hold meeting to-night.  Let us go.”

“What!  And let the proud tribe of the Koreish, the guardians of the Caaba, see a woman of the Koreish enter there?”

“We can go in long cloaks, mother, and it is well-nigh dark.  Come, will you not?”

The pleading voice was so earnest that the mother consented.  Yet, that the influence of the gods in the result of the battle might not be lost, they first entered their own house, prostrated themselves before the gods, and besought their aid in the Koreish cause.  Then, donning long outer cloaks, and veiling their faces closely, the two slipped out of a back way and stealthily hastened towards the Jewish church.