"Be thou seated here," he said, "and wait till I return."

The messenger smiled and bowed, and took seat; thereupon Uel drew his
turban down to his ears, and, letter in hand, started home.

His going was rapid; sometimes he almost ran. Acquaintances met him on
the street, but he did not see them; if they spoke to him, he did not
hear. Arrived at his own door, he plunged into the house as if a mob
were at his heels. Now he was before the cupboard! Little mercy the
phylacteries and amulets, the bridle-spanglery of donkeys, the trinketry
of women, his ancestresses once famous for beauty or many children--
little mercy the motley collection on the second shelf received from his
hands. He tossed them here and there, and here and there again, but the
search was vain. Ah, good Lord! was the medalet lost? And of all times,
then?

The failure made him the more anxious; his hands shook while he essayed
the search once more; and he reproached himself. The medal was valuable
for its gold, and besides it was a sacred souvenir. Conscience stung
him. Over and over he shifted and turned the various properties on the
shelf, the last time systematically and with fixed attention. When he
stopped to rest, the perspiration stood on his forehead in large drops,
and he fairly wrung his hands, crying, "It is not here--it is lost! My
God, how shall I know the truth now!"

At this pause it is to be said that the son of Jahdai was wifeless. The
young woman whom he had taken as helpmeet in dying had left him a girl
baby who, at the time of our writing, was about thirteen years old.
Under the necessity thus imposed, he found a venerable daughter of
Jerusalem to serve him as housekeeper, and charge herself with care of