zon, half doubtful; while from within could be heard the faint murmur of wailing from many voices.
"The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we are not saved. Woe is me for my hurt! My wound is grievous: but I said, Truly this is a grief, and I must bear it. There is none to stretch forth my tent any more, and to set up my curtains."
The voices wailed alternately; then suddenly a woman's tuneful voice sang out: "Righteous art Thou, O Lord, when I plead with Thee. How long shall we mourn? Yea, blessed is the man that trusteth in the Lord and whose hope the Lord is."
"Mary, Mary!" The voice was low but stern. The song ceased and a beautiful woman with long, flowing hair, which, in the sun, had a reddish tinge turned suddenly; then rose from her knees and came in meek obedience to her sister.
"Wilt thou not then come with me to entreat the Lord? Yet thou sayest that He can restore him even now. If we wait till they have laid him in the grave it will be too late." The tone of the elder woman was almost hasty.
"My sister, I need not to leave his side to entreat my Lord. Hath not Nicodemus taken Him the news of our brother's sickness? Had He wished to restore him, He could have done so from Jerusalem. The city is but fifteen furlongs off. He would have sent over one of the twelve with the message of life, or He would have willed him to live from a distance and he would have lived. Lazarus is dead, but were he living, he would not wish to live if his Lord did not so will it; and, except to our mortal eyes, he is not dead, for thou knowest that our Lord hath said
