University of Virginia Library

7. VII.

Melchior, musing still, and with a mind filled to
overflowing with various and thick-gathering thoughts,
approached the Fountain of the Damsels. Art never
yet has presumed to vie with nature in scooping out so
beautiful a place. The water gushed from the hollow
of a rock, and fell with a playful clatter into the basin of
another and more spacious rock which lay beneath it,
and innumerable fragments of stone were scattered
around, upon which the young maidens who came for
water were wont to sit during the pleasant summer.
Trees grew from the clefts in many parts of the rocks
around, and there were two large trees, the shadows of
which entirely screened the fountains from the sun. It
was one of the most lovely achievements of nature; and
the ambitious art, vain and daring as it is, never yet
dared to impair its loveliness by labouring idly at its improvement.
It stood as it had stood from the first; and
it was venerable and beloved in the regards of the people,
as it had always been the same.

Melchior was aware, as he approached, that a boy sat
upon a loose stone overlooking the fountain; but his

thoughts were busy within him, and he deigned no
second glance upon the stranger until a faint, sweet,
well-known cry reached his ears, and with a slight scream
the boy bounded towards him.

“My father, oh! my father—I am glad, I am happy.”

“Thyrza, my child—what brings thee here—what
has happened to make thee fly from Cordova? Speak
—let me hear.”

“Amri!” she exclaimed—“Amri!”

“What of Amri!” demanded Melchior.

“He is free!”

“How! who set him free?—not Adoniakim! It
could not be! He could not be so weak. Speak—
what knowest thou?”

“Nothing do I know, my father, save that he is free,”
replied the maiden.

“How knowest thou that?” he demanded.

“Mine eyes beheld him,” she replied, “but a few
hours ago.”

“Where didst thou see him?”

“He walked with a thick garment over him, as if for
concealment, before the dwelling of Father Samuel.”

“Art very sure, my child?” demanded Melchior, with
much concern in his countenance.

“As that I live, my father. I knew him well even
through his disguise; and once, when his arm was lifted,
and he pointed out the dwelling of Father Samuel to the
soldier who came with him—”

“Ha! a soldier with him!”

“Yes, my father—a dark, short man. To him he
pointed out the dwelling, and when his arm was raised
his vest was open—a purple vest, thou knowest—”

“How didst thou know, my child, that his companion
was a soldier?”

“He had a half pike in his hands, my father, and
walked stiffly like a soldier.”

“Wore he a badge, my child?”

“Of yellow, on his breast—”

“Edacer's badge—'tis done! Some harm has surely
happed to Adoniakim—he has not willingly suffered the
boy to go free. He hath stolen forth, or done his father
some harm to obtain his liberty; and, doubtless, hath
told the secret to Edacer. Come with me, Thyrza. I
must foil them yet.”

Thus saying, the old man led the way to the hills
where his horse had been fastened. He spoke not during
his progress, except musingly to himself, and then
his words were broken and few. At length, when he
had reached the spot where his horse stood, he bade his
daughter mount, which she did, behind him.

“It is not too late,” he said, as much in soliloquy as
for her ears; “Edacer can bring but a small force, and
if I can urge forward the troops of Abimelech, they
will be enough, with the leaders in the cave. We must
ride fast, my child, and I will soon put thee in safety.
Fear nothing, but grasp firmly upon my girdle, and be
of good cheer. Some three leagues hence he bides—
in two fair hours we shall be there—then thou wilt rest.
In two hours more we can return to the cave. Yes—
in that way only—but it must be done. Art sure of
thy hold, my child?”

She replied in the affirmative. Melchior then gave
the word to his steed, and they were soon stretching
away for the lively plain where Abimelech held himself
in readiness, with the Hebrews who had come out with
him to the war.