For one instant, the proud daughter of Caiaphas felt constrained to open her heart to this gentle woman, who spoke and looked like Lazarus.
"Yea, I did love Lazarus, yet he loved not me," she answered scornfully; "but I would have him live, because I cannot live if he be dead."
"He will rise again," said Martha.
"What meanest thou?" inquired Rebekah; "that he will rise now, or in the Judgment Day? If thou sayest now, I could understand thee; but hereafter—that is too far off a thing for my vain mind to grasp."
"Methinks the Lord will raise him yet," said Martha, musingly; "but whether now, or at the Resurrection Day, my brother will rise again."
"But canst not send for this Nazarene? Ye speak of all His power and love, and yet, when death doth carry off your brother, ye do stand gaping and wailing and doing nothing."
She stamped her foot impatiently. "Will none stir?" she cried again.
"Peace, hush thee, maiden," answered Martha, in a tone half gentle, half authoritative. "We have sent many times, and He cometh not. We sent when he was sick, and now we have sent to tell Him he is dead, and, if He cometh not, 't is that He hath good reason or His hour is not yet come."
A look of mingled frenzy and despair stole over the features of Rebekah.
He is afraid to come," she said with scorn; "for He knoweth that He cannot raise the dead."
Then, overcome with excitement and fatigue, the proud soul unbent, and casting herself by the bed,
