ishing. The face was one of the pictures he had carried in mind ever since. In the effusion of feeling excited, the explanation of the preacher was lost by him, all but the last words—words so marvellous that the world yet rings with them:
"—this is the Son of God!"
Ben-Hur leaped from his horse to render homage to his benefactor; but Iras cried to him, "Help, son of Hur, help, or my father will die!"
He stopped, looked back, then hurried to her assistance. She gave him a cup; and leaving the slave to bring the camel to its knees, he ran to the river for water. The stranger was gone when he came back.
At last Balthasar was restored to consciousness. Stretching forth his hands, he asked feebly, "Where is he?"
"Who?" asked Iras.
An intense instant interest shone upon the good man’s face, as if a last wish had been gratified, and he answered,
"He—the Redeemer—the Son of God, whom I have seen again."
"Believest thou so?" Iras asked in a low voice of Ben-Hur.
"The time is full of wonders; let us wait," was all he said.
And next day while the three were listening to him, the Nazarite broke off in mid-speech, saying reverently, "Behold the Lamb of God!"
Looking to where he pointed, they beheld the stranger again. As Ben-Hur surveyed the slender figure, and holy beautiful countenance compassionate to sadness, a new idea broke upon him.
"Balthasar is right—so is Simonides. May not the Redeemer be a king also?"
And he asked one at his side, "Who is the man walking yonder?"
The other laughed mockingly, and replied,
"He is the son of a carpenter over in Nazareth."
