sound asleep, and in her weariness presently Nehushta again began to doze, till at length—­it may have been one hour later, or two or three, she knew not—­some sound disturbed her.  Opening her eyes, once more behind that ridge of rock she saw, not one white-bearded face, but two, staring at her and Miriam.  As she sat up they vanished.  She remained still, pretending to sleep, and again they appeared, scanning her closely and whispering to each other in eager tones.  Suddenly one of the faces turned a little so that the light fell on it.  Now Nehushta knew why in her dream it had seemed familiar, and in her heart thanked God.

“Brother Ithiel,” she said in a quiet voice, “why do you hide like a coney in these rocks?”

Both heads disappeared, but the sound of whispering continued.  Then one of them rose again among the green grasses as a man might rise out of water.  It was Ithiel’s.

“It is indeed you, Nehushta?” said his well-remembered voice.

“Who else?” she asked.

“And that lady who sleeps at your side?”

“Once they called her Queen of the Essenes; now she is a hunted fugitive, waiting to be massacred by Simon, or John, or Eleazer, or Zealots, or Sicarii, or any other of the holy cut-throats who inhabit this Holy City,” answered Nehushta bitterly.

Ithiel raised his hands as though in thankfulness, then said: 

“Hush! hush!  Here the very birds are spies.  Brother, creep to that rock and look if any men are moving.”

The Essene obeyed, and answered, “None; and they cannot see us from the wall.”

Ithiel motioned to him to return.

“Does she sleep sound?” he asked of Nehushta, pointing to Miriam.

“Like the dead.”

Then, after another whispered conference, the pair of them crept round the angle of the rock.  Bidding Nehushta follow them, they lifted the sleeping Miriam, and carried her between them through a dense growth of shrubs to another rock.  Here they moved some grass and pushed aside a stone, revealing a hole not much larger than a jackal would make.  Into this the brother entered, heels first.  Then Nehushta, by his directions, taking the feet of the senseless Miriam, with her help he bore her into the hole, that opened presently into a wide passage.  Last of all Ithiel, having lifted the grasses which their feet had trodden, followed them, pulling the stone back to its place, and cutting off the light.  Once more they were in darkness, but this did not seem to trouble the brethren, for again lifting Miriam, they went forward a distance of thirty or forty paces, Nehushta holding on to Ithiel’s robe.  Now, at length, the cold air of this cave, or perhaps its deep gloom and the motion, awoke Miriam from her swoon-like sleep.  She struggled in their hands, and would have cried out, had not Nehushta bade her to be silent.

“Where am I?” she said.  “Is this the hall of death?”

“Nay, lady.  Wait a while, all shall be explained.”