Miriam had listened to this offer in silent surprise.  She had a high esteem and warm regard for the man who so fervently desired her love.  Spite of his age, he stood before her in the full flush of manhood and stately dignity, and the beseeching expression of eyes whose glance was wont to be so imperious and steadfast stirred the inmost depths of her soul.

She, however, was waiting with ardent longing for another, so her sole answer was a troubled shake of the head.

But this man of mature years, a prince of his tribe, who was accustomed to carry his plans persistently into execution, undeterred by her mute refusal, continued even more warmly than before.

“Do not destroy in one short moment the yearning repressed with so much difficulty for years!  Do you object to my age?”

Miriam shook her head a second time, but Hur went on: 

“That was the source of my anxiety, though I can still vie with many a younger man in vigor.  But, if you can overlook your lover’s grey hairs, perhaps you may be induced to weigh the words he now utters.  Of the faith and devotion of my soul I will say nothing.  No man of my years woos a woman, unless his heart’s strong impulse urges him on.  But there is something else which, meseems, is of equal import.  I said that I would lead you to my house.  Yonder it stands, a building firm and spacious enough; but from to-morrow a tent will be our home, the camp our dwelling-place, and there will be wild work enough within its bounds.  No one is secure, not even of life, least of all a woman, however strong she may be, who has made common cause with those against whom thousands murmur.  Your parents are dead, your brothers might protect you, but should the people lay hands on them, the same stones on which you cross the stream would drag you down into the depths with them.”

“And were I your wife, you also,” replied Miriam, her thick eye-brows contracting in a heavy frown.

“I will take the risk,” Hur answered.  “The destinies of all are in God’s hands, my faith is as firm as yours, and behind me stands the tribe of Judah, who follow me and Naashon as the sheep follow the shepherds.  Old Nun and the Ephraimites are with us, and should matters come to the worst, it would mean perishing according to God’s will, or in faithful union, power, and prosperity, awaiting old age in the Promised Land.”

Miriam fearlessly gazed full into his stern eyes, laid her hand on his arm, and answered:  “Those words are worthy of the man whom I have honored from childhood, and who has reared such sons; but I cannot be your wife.”

“You cannot?”

“No, my lord, I cannot.”

“A hard sentence, but it must suffice,” replied the other, his head drooping in sorrow; but Miriam exclaimed: