had not worn off. Miracles had only just begun to strike the people with awe and wonder, and, so far, the authorities had feared to check enthusiasm, lest thus to fan the embers of sedition. It would be easy enough to mingle with the listening crowd, but would it be so easy to meet or single out Lazarus ? Would the object of this night sortie be attained? Their sole chance was that, by walking on the road to Bethany, they would meet the crowd coming towards the town and perchance fall in with Lazarus and Mary.
Few suspected in the darkly attired women, with veiled faces, who walked up the hill to Bethany, the proud daughter of Caiaphas and her attendants. Here and there some woman greeted them, or some man called out, but the girls were silent and strolled along.
The maidens guessed easily whom she sought, for it had long been common talk that Rebekah loved Lazarus, but that the proud, stern young ruler would have naught to say to any woman.
Fortune favoured her; she had got not far when a dancing, shrieking, clamouring crowd proclaimed that the Nazarene was coming that way. Rebekah stood against the wall to let them pass, and motioned to her women to do the same; then her eyes searched anxiously in the crowd for the face which to her meant day or night—life or death. But, as yet, she saw it not.
The centre piece of that seething mass of humanity was the Nazarene. The Messiah walked along the dreary, dirty road, talking little, but, by a strange set earnestness, led men on to follow Him.
