and prayed to God to grant her once more to see the face of Jesus and to keep her from again falling into sin.
So absorbed was she in her prayer, that she failed, at first, to hear footsteps coming along the road. For a moment she was overcome with womanly fear at being alone on the highroad at such an hour. She, least of all, should thus be seen; for, since her awakening, she had remained almost nightly within doors, or in the company of the mother of her Lord, who had been all sympathy and love to her. Of late her only pleasure in life had been in following the crowds to hear the preaching of the Nazarene, either in the Temple courts or in the open air.
The night was dark, so rising quickly from her knees she slid behind an olive tree. The two men approached, talking in tones that in the night air sounded loud and clear.
The Magdalene started. She knew one voice well; she had heard it many times speaking to crowds, and also in the Temple cursing and denouncing sinners like herself. Surely it was the voice of Caiaphas. Those harsh, dictatorial accents, full of self-assurance, could belong to no other man. What brought Caiaphas along this road so late? A sharp pain struck her heart, as though she had been stabbed. If it were Caiaphas hastening to the house of Martha, it must surely be to lay hands on Jesus. Perchance He was already taken. Oh that she were there to throw herself between the captor and the captured, to tear the former limb from limb! Surely God would give her strength to save His glorified Son. Then she whispered softly to herself, "But
