acknowledged sinners. She could not overcome her dislike of the Magdalene, although she had tried to modify it of late.
Ever striving to keep peace, Mary said gently to her sister: "She hath brought a message from James and John, to bid us not tarry for the Lord, for that He cometh not; and she is weary and footsore with the long journey."
The Jewish hospitality filled the gap of loving friendliness in Martha's heart, and she bid her welcome.
"Woe is me, that the Lord still tarrieth," she said, "for our brother is very weak, and but now he sent me forth to see whether the Master cometh. 'I cannot die without the Lord,' he said."
"Methought I would take the Magdalene to him, if so be he is awake," said Mary presently, glancing nervously at her sister, as though fearing she would not allow this visit. "Peradventure the night will seem shorter if the Magdalene tell him what hath happened to our Lord."
Martha's face hardened, but she said neither yea nor nay. "The night is far spent, the day is at hand," she murmured enigmatically as she re-entered the house. Mary conducted the Magdalene across the tesselated pavement to the gorgeous room, in which was a couch hung with costly silks. With his face turned in patient watchfulness towards the door lay the dying Lazarus, longing for his Lord.
But the sight of his poor thin face, the eager expectation in his eyes, that died out when the two women entered, was too much for the Magdalene, who had loved him so truly and so long; ever since,
