the silent streets she walked, and past the Temple, till she reached the door of the house of Caiaphas.
Here she asked to be admitted to the presence of Rebekah, little guessing in her ignorance, poor woman, the fatal consequences that would follow.
She found Rebekah standing by the window, her favourite attitude, looking out upon the crimsoning sky. Her face was troubled, yet no remorse was in her gloomy heart; only a wondering that Lazarus should have disdained her, should have preferred even the death of his Friend to making her his wife; for, in her narrowed vision, she failed to see the world's salvation in the Saviour's death.
On hearing that Martha wished to see her, she was but slightly moved; yet who could tell what wonders might still come about? Fear, that incentive so powerful with the Jews, might have driven Lazarus to seek her help. Thus does a small mind measure others by its own dimensions.
"I would speak with thee," said the somewhat authoritative voice of Martha, for Rebekah had not even heard her entrance. "I would ask a favour for one thou lovest."
Ah, she had been right! Rebekah turned and frowned.
"What dost thou crave?" she rejoined haughtily; "for I am not one given to kindness."
"Thou knowest that the Master is dead." "The Master? which, whose Master?" interrupted Rebekah. "Meanest thou the Nazarene?"
"Even so," said Martha.
"Well, say on."
"And it is rumoured amongst the Jews," went
