9. IX.
Edacer found no victim. The bird had flown. Old
Namur received the intruders with as little emotion as if
the visit had been expected, and the disappointed Goth
led his myrmidons away, swearing vengeance upon Amri,
whom he supposed to have deceived him. Meanwhile
the fugitives sought another place of retreat in the Hebrew
suburb—a region at no time deficient in secret
passages and haunts. At the gate of the dwelling Melchior
received his daughter and the prince. The latter
he conducted into an apartment removed from the rest.
He had his purpose in this. He was unwilling that
Amri should know that Prince Pelayo was committed
with them, and in the city. With a something of divine
prescience, he suspected the honesty of the son of Adoniakim,
and prudently resolved to keep from his knowledge
as much as he could of the designs and progress of the
conspirators. In this determination he had a stout opponent
in the person of Adoniakim, to whom Amri had
greatly recommended himself by what he had unfolded
of his doings of the night. Fond and confiding, the aged
man was easily assured of his son's discretion and patriotism.
Of his integrity he never seemed to have had
a doubt. It was after a warm struggle, therefore, that
Melchior succeeded in impressing on him the necessity
of confiding nothing to the youth.
“We must have more proof of his discretion. When
he has given up these profligate associates and these
idle habits, we shall confide to him all; but now—not
yet, Adoniakim. There is too much at risk, and we
must not forget that the lives and fortunes of others—of
the young Prince Pelayo, and of the brave men who are
pledged with him, are at stake. We have not the right
to unfold our knowledge of these to the youth, however
much we esteem him, and however able he may be to
maintain the trust.”
Accustomed to yield to Melchior, Adoniakim at length
forbore to press the matter; and, returning to the chamber
in which, during this brief conference, they had left
Amri, the task devolved upon the old man of sending his
son away. The duty was a hard one, fond as the father
was, and esteeming the youth worthy, as he did, to partake
of their great enterprise.
“Go now, my son—go back to the dwelling, and
leave it not again, I pray thee, till my return.”
“What! leave thee here, my father, and wherefore?
Why shouldst thou grope thy way home again through
the gloomy streets at so late an hour, when thou hast a
son able, like myself, to succour and attend thee?”
“Nay, Amri, I shall not leave the dwelling of Melchior
in the dark hours. It will be bright noonday when
I return, and then there can be no danger. I have much
of grave business to consult upon here with Melchior,
and I need not, though much I should love, thy tendance.
Thou must go.”
“I see it, I see it, my father,” said Amri, impatiently,
for he longed once more to behold the maiden, whom he
now knew as such, in the guise of the page, and was reluctant,
therefore, to depart.
“I see that I am not trusted by Melchior or by thee.
Thou thinkest me a rash and thoughtless boy—mayhap
—and the smile of Abraham be on me, for it is sad to
think so—mayhap, a vicious one, and that thou mayst
not confide to me thy secrets. But I know them—I
know them without thy words. Thinkest thou I am
blind, not to see that thou art toiling for Israel—that
thou aimest for his freedom from the bondage of the
Goth?”
“Oh, my son — Amri — where gottest thou this
knowledge?” exclaimed the astounded father. But the
son did not answer the inquiry, though he continued to
speak.
“I know thy purpose, and I know thou dost not desire
to trust me. I, thy son—I, the son of Israel, and
bound to thy people, and loving them no less than thou
and Melchior.”
Melchior, to whose ears the last words had come as
he was entering the apartment, now spoke in a rebuke
which silenced the voluble declamation of the presuming
youth.
“Thou dost prove thyself deserving of thy father's
confidence when thou dost refuse to obey his commands.
Go to, Amri,—thou hast yet much to learn.
If, as thou sayest, thou knowest thy father's purpose,
and the labour that is between us, thou wilt prove to us
the strength of thy faith and wisdom by putting a seal
on thy lips henceforward, heavy like that of Solomon.
When we behold thee having sealed lips, we shall know
thee to be prudent, and esteem thee to be wise: we shall
then come to thee for counsel. Go now, seek thy father's
dwelling, and maintain its quiet, as a good son, while he
remains abroad. Adoniakim is now waited for, and, if
thou goest not, thy stay will be but tedious, for thou
wilt linger here alone.”
“Let the page Lamech but keep with me, and I care
not for the night: I will remain in waiting for my father,”
was the suggestion of the youth.
“The boy has gone to his repose,” was the quiet
answer of Melchior; but his eye searched narrowly the
features of the rash youth who stood before him. The
thought of Melchior was troubled. Was the daughter of
his heart known through her disguise to Amri? He
knew not, for the countenance of Amri stood the close
scrutiny of his glance, and betrayed none of the secret
thoughts labouring then in the mind of the profligate.
In a moment after, hopeless to gain his object, Amri
departed from the dwelling.
