the two dark figures that now barely emerged from the gloom around, her heart seemed to die within her, and, by its death-throes, to give birth to a new ambition of her soul.
Love, human love, companionship, friendship, were passing away. Humanly speaking, she was alone. Dark shadows seemed to be rising up, a great wall shutting her out from all the brightness of this world. The conviction of man's solitude here on earth was forced upon her, and with it came the remembrance that there was One who never failed in His companionship and solace.
Yet what right had she to be pained if Lazarus cared for some other woman? What claim had she, the harlot,[1] on the heart of any man? The wealthy ruler's least of all. It was all right and as it should be; yet, at her heart, lay a dull thickening of grief.
Lazarus was certainly not prepared for the scene that awaited him on his arrival at the house of Caiaphas. He was about to conduct Rebekah to the presence of the High Priest; but she, laying her hand on his arm when they reached the wall of the garden, bade him be silent.
"My father knoweth not that I went to hear the Nazarene," she whispered. "Come into our garden, and I will tell thee."
What could he do but follow? He could not leave her at that hour in the street, yet he much disliked the situation.
- ↑ The author has adopted the popular view of Mary Magdalene's mode of life before she had repented and been forgiven by the Messiah.
