so fierce a charge, delivered by the fresh troops behind the defences, that they were in turn swept back and took refuge among the ruined houses.  Suddenly Miriam’s attention became concentrated upon the mounted officer who led this charge, a gallant-looking man clad in splendid armour, whose clear, ringing voice, as he uttered the words of command, had caught her ear even through the tumult and the shouting.  The Roman onslaught having reached its limit, began to fall back again like the water from an exhausted wave upon a slope of sand.  At the moment the Jews were in no condition to press the enemy’s retreat, so that the mounted officer who withdrew last of all, had time to turn his horse, and heedless of the arrows that sang about him, to study the ground now strewn with the wounded and the dead.  Presently he looked up at the deserted tower as though wondering whether he could make use of it, and Miriam saw his face.  It was Marcus, grown older, more thoughtful also, and altered somewhat by a short curling beard, but still Marcus and no other.

“Look! look!” she said.

Nehushta nodded.  “Yes, it is he; I thought so from the first.  And now, having seen him, lady, shall we be going?”

“Going?” said Miriam, “wherefore?”

“Because one army or the other may chance to think that this building would be useful to them, and break open the walled-up door.  Also they might explore this staircase, and then——­”

“And then,” answered Miriam quietly, “we should be taken.  What of it?  If the Jews find us we are of their party; if the Romans—­well, I do not greatly fear the Romans.”

“You mean you do not fear one Roman.  But who knows, but that he may presently lie dead——­”

“Oh! say it not,” answered Miriam, pressing her hand upon her heart.  “Nay, safe or unsafe, I will see this fight out.  Look, yonder is Caleb—­yes, Caleb himself, shouting to the Jews.  How fierce is his face, like that of a hyena in a snare.  Nay, now I will not go—­go you and leave me in peace to watch the end.”

“Since you are too heavy and strong for my old arms to carry down those steep steps, so be it,” answered Nehushta calmly.  “After all, we have food with us, and our angels can guard us as well on the top of a tower as in those dirty cisterns.  Also this fray is worth the watching.”

As she spoke, the Romans having re-formed, led by the Prefect Marcus and other officers, advanced from their entrenchment, to be met half-way by the Jews, now reinforced from the Temple, among whom was Caleb.  There, in the open space, they fought hand to hand, for neither force would yield an inch.  Miriam, watching through the stone bars from above, had eyes for only two of all that multitude of men—­Marcus, whom she loved, and Caleb, whom she feared.  Marcus was attacked by a Jew, who stabbed his horse, to be instantly stabbed himself by a Roman who came to the rescue of his commander.  After this he fought