empty basin refills itself with water at a fountain, so wily, crafty thoughts poured in.
"I would hear the Nazarene," she said. "Wilt take me with thee?"
Her voice was soft and low, and he could not detect the false ring in it. What new wonder was this? What if the proud Rebekah should believe, and, by believing, bring her father also to the feet of Jesus? It seemed incredible, but stranger things than that had come to pass; and so poor Lazarus was duped, as so many sympathetic souls are duped who do not recognise the livery of Satan when his servants wear it.
"I will take thee, noble maiden," he said, with gentle voice; "and as thou hearest, so mayst thou believe." The sermon was over, a sermon such as no man on earth had ever heard before, or would ever hear again. Interested, despite herself, carried away by the persuasive power of the voice, the divine beauty of the Nazarene; clever enough to grasp the purport and to interpret the subtle meanings of each allusion; surprised at the fluent speech of one reputed to be an humble and illiterate man; amazed at doctrines, that were the complement rather than the upheaval of the Mosaic Law, Rebekah almost forgot the subject of her errand, the enslavement of the affections of the man she loved. It could not be, with the words ringing in her ears, "Seek ye first the kingdom of God and His righteousness," and "Blessed are the pure in heart," that she should broach the question of earthly love. Lazarus's face, the faces of Martha and Mary in the distance, the silence of the adoring multitude, all struck her with
