spirit; or perhaps he saw the owl and guessed its errand. Moreover, I
think that troubles are brewing for others besides Herod, since the old
man said as much.

"What became of him and the rest?" asked Nehushta.

"Oh! a few were trampled to death, and others the Jews stirred up the
mob to stone, saying that they had bewitched the king, which they, who
were disappointed of the games, did gladly. Some, however, are said to
have escaped, and, like yourselves, lie in hiding."

Nehushta glanced at her mistress, now fast asleep, her pale face resting
on her arm.

"The world is hard--for Christians," she said.

"Friend, it is hard for all, as, were I to tell you my own story, even
you would admit," and he sighed. "At least you Christians believe in
something beyond," he went on; "for you death is but a bridge leading to
a glorious city, and I trust that you may be right. Is not your mistress
delicate?"

Nehushta nodded.

"She was never very strong, and sorrow has done its work with her. They
killed her husband at Berytus yonder, and--her trouble is very near."

"Yes, yes, I heard that story, also that his blood is on the hands
of her own father, Benoni. Ah! who is so cruel as a bigot Jew? Not
we Phœnicians even, of whom they say such evil. Once I had a