The Mourner's Home

: Hebrew Heroes

I shall pass lightly over the events of several succeeding months. The

summer passed away, with its intense heat and its fierce simooms. Then

came heavier dews by night, and temperature gradually decreased by day.

The harvest was ended, but few of the inhabitants of Jerusalem had

ventured to observe Pentecostal solemnities. The time for the Feast of

Tabernacles arrived, but none dared raise leafy booths of palm and

illow--to spend therein the week of rejoicing, according to the custom

of happier years.



Early in the summer Antiochus Epiphanes had quitted Judaea for Persia,

to quell an insurrection which his cupidity had provoked in the latter

country. The absence of the tyrant had somewhat mitigated the

fierceness of the persecution against such Hebrews as sought to obey

the law of Moses; but still no one dared openly to practise Jewish

rites in Jerusalem, and the image of Jupiter Olympus still profaned the

temple on Mount Zion.



Judas Maccabeus, in the meantime, still maintained a bold front in

Southern Judaea and the tract of country called Idumea; the power of

his name was felt from the rich pasture-lands surrounding Hebron as far

as the fair plains of Beersheba on the south-west--or on the south-east

the desolate valley of salt. Wherever the Asmonean's influence

extended, fields were sown or their harvests gathered in peace; the

husbandman followed his team, and the shepherd folded his flocks;

mothers rejoiced over the infants whom they could now present to the

Lord without fear.



But again the portentous war-cloud was rolling up from the direction of

Antioch. Lycias, the regent of the western provinces, by the command

of Antiochus had gathered around him a very large army, a force yet

more formidable than that which had been led by Nicanor, and Syria was

again collecting her hordes to crush by overwhelming numbers Judas and

his patriot band.



And how had the last half-year sped with Zarah? Very slowly and very

heavily, as time usually passes with those who mourn. And deeply did

Zarah mourn for Hadassah--her more than mother, her counsellor, her

guide--the being round whom maiden's affections so closely had twined

that she had felt that she could hardly sustain existence deprived of

Hadassah. And much Zarah wept for her father--though in remembering

him a deep spring of joy mingled with her sorrow. A thousand times did

Zarah repeat to herself his words of blessing--a thousand times

fervently thank God that she and her parent had met. The words of

Lysimachus had lightened her heart of what would otherwise have

painfully pressed upon it. Those words had told her that Pollux was a

doomed man; that apostasy on her part could not have saved his life;

that had he not fallen by the Syrian's dagger, he would have been but

reserved for the headsman's axe. And had Pollux perished thus, there

would have been none of that gleam of hope which, at least in Zarah's

eyes, now rested upon his grave.



Zarah never left the precincts of her secluded dwelling, except to

visit her parents' grave--where she went as often as she dared venture

forth, accompanied by the faithful Anna. No feet but their own ever

crossed the threshold of their home. Zarah's simple wants were always

supplied. Anna disposed in Jerusalem of the flax which her young

mistress spun, as soon as Zarah had regained sufficient strength to

resume her humble labours. During the period of the maiden's severe

illness, Anna had secretly disposed of the precious rolls of Scripture

from which Hadassah had made her copies, and had obtained for them such

a price as enabled her for many weeks to procure every comfort and even

luxury required by the sufferer. The copies themselves, traced by the

dear hand now mouldering into dust, Zarah counted as her most precious

possession; her most soothing occupation was to read them, pray over

them, commit to memory their contents.



During all this long period of time, Zarah never saw Lycidas, but she

had an instinctive persuasion that he was not far away--that, like an

unseen good angel, he was protecting her still. The name of the

Athenian was never forgotten in Zarah's prayers. She felt that she

owed a debt of gratitude to one who had struck down her father's

murderer, who had paid the last honours to his remains and those of

Hadassah, and to whose care she believed that she owed her own freedom

and life. If there was something more than gratitude in the maiden's

feelings towards the Greek, it was a sentiment so refined and purified

by grief that it cast no dimness over the mirror of conscience.



But Zarah knew that her life could not always flow on thus. It was a

most unusual thing in her land for a maiden thus to dwell alone,

without any apparent protection save that of a single handmaid. It was

a violation of all the customs of her people, an unseemly thing which

could only be justified by necessity. The daughter of Abner was also

in constant peril of having her retreat discovered by those who had

searched for herself and her father in vain, but who might at any day

or any hour find and seize her as a condemned criminal, and either put

her to death, or send her as a captive to Antiochus Epiphanes.



Often, very often had Zarah turned over the subject of her peculiar

position in her mind, and considered whether she ought not to leave the

precincts of Jerusalem, and secretly depart for Bethsura. There the

orphan could claim the hospitality of her aged relative Rachel, should

she be living yet, or the protection of the Asmonean brothers, who,

being her next of kin, were, according to Jewish customs, the maiden's

natural guardians. But Zarah shrank from taking this difficult step.

Very formidable to her was the idea of undertaking a journey even of

but twenty miles' length, through a country where she would be liable

to meet enemies at every step of the way. Zarah had no means of

travelling save on foot, unless she disposed of some of the few jewels

which she had inherited from her parents; and this she was not only

unwilling to do, but she feared to do it lest, through the sale of

these gems in Jerusalem, she should be tracked to her place of retreat.

Anna was faithful as a servant, but could never be leaned upon as an

adviser--she would obey, but she could not counsel; and her young

mistress, timid and gentle, with no one to guide and protect her, felt

her strength and courage alike insufficient for an adventurous journey

from Jerusalem to Bethsura.



The possible necessity which might arise of her having to place herself

under the protection of Maccabeus, should Rachel be no longer living at

Bethsura, greatly increased Zarah's reluctance to leave her present

abode. The maiden remembered too well what Hadassah had disclosed of a

proposed union between herself and Judas, not to feel that it would be

peculiarly painful to have to throw herself upon the kindness of her

brave kinsman. Zarah could not, as she thought, tell him why the idea

of such a union was hateful to her soul--why she was averse to

fulfilling the wishes of Mattathias and Hadassah. While Maccabeus

often experienced an almost irrepressible yearning once more to look

upon Zarah, whom he believed to be still with Hadassah, of whose death

he never had heard, Zarah shrank with emotions of fear from meeting the

Hebrew chieftain.



Tender affection also made the orphan girl cling to her parents' grave

and the home of her youth. Dear associations were linked with almost

every object on which her eyes rested. Those to whom the present is a

thorny waste, and the future a prospect darkened by gloomy mists, are

wont to dwell more than others on the green spots which memory yet can

survey in the past. It is natural to youth to look forward. Zarah, as

regarded this world, dared only look back. It was well for her that

she could do so with so little of remorse or regret.



"Not to have known a treasure's worth

Till time hath stolen away the slighted boon,

Is cause of half the misery we feel,

And makes this world the wilderness it is."





When winter was drawing near, when the bursting cotton-pods had been

gathered, and the vintage season was over, when the leaves were

beginning to fall fast, and the cold grew sharp after sunset,

circumstances occurred which compelled a change in Zarah's quiet

routine of existence. She could no longer be left to indulge her

lonely sorrow; the current of life was about to take a sudden turn

which must of necessity bring her amongst new scenes, and expose her to

fresh trials.