“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.”

When Miriam entered the supper chamber that night, the guests to the number of twelve were already seated on their couches, waiting for the feast to begin.  By her grandfather’s command she was arrayed in her richest robes fashioned and broidered after the Grecian fashion, having her hair gathered into coils upon her head and held with a golden net.  Round her waist was a girdle of gold set with gems, about her throat the necklace of pearls which Marcus had sent her, and on her hand a single ring—­that with his likeness and her own.  As she entered the great chamber, looking most lovely, notwithstanding her lack of height, her grandfather came forward to meet her and present her to the guests, who rose in greeting.  One by one they bowed to her and one by one she searched their faces with her eyes—­faces for the most part stern and fierce.  Now all had passed and she sighed with relief, for among them there was no Caleb.  Even as she did so a curtain swung aside and Caleb entered.

It was he, of that there could be no doubt; but oh! how changed since last she had seen him two years before.  Then he had been but a raw, passionate youth; now he was a tall and splendid young man, very handsome in his dark fashion, very powerful of frame also and quick of limb.  His person was matched by his attire, which was that of an Eastern warrior noble, and his mien was proud and conquering.  As he advanced the guests bowed to him in respect, as to a man of great and assured position who may become greater still.  Yes, even Benoni showed him this respect, stepping forward to greet him.  All these greetings Caleb acknowledged lightly, even haughtily, till of a sudden he saw Miriam standing somewhat in the shadow, and heedless of the other guests pushed his way towards her.