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Movelist. Jephthah's Daughter.

>—— < By Julia Magrudek.

CHAPTER lll.— (Continued.)

Aud the young mau smote his hand 3 together and cried aloud to God to spare. All the day he spsnt alone, in theanguisn. of his stricken hrart, fearing to go even unto Jephthah, knowing that his presence could be no comfort while that his grief so mastered him ; but when evening was come he crept from the hou a e, unseen of any, and went silently to tho garden of Jephthah's house, that ho might once more be in tha place that had seen him so happy in the presence of his soul's love. Stiil and deserted wa=> the garden, and the wan moon looked down to-night with the same cold face that she had turned upon the far different scene of last night. Adina wandered here and there among the tiees, but ever he came back to the dear spot where latel) T he had stood with Namarah in his arms. The brook still babbled on, and the cooing of the doves came ever to his ears, as if to remind him that all was the .same as before, save that Namarah was gone. .

Resting his two arms against the trunk of a great tree, he laid his face upon them, shutting out the beautiful gardenBcene, in which the maiden was not, and there he rested long in exceeding bitterness of spirit. Suddenly there was a Bound of wings, aud again the bird which he could recognise by its brokeu and injured plumage flow down, and hovering above him a moment, as if indoubfc, came and nestled on his shoulder.

Adina took it softly in his hands, and turned his sad eyes silently towards the houvSe where he Jived alone. Even yet he had not the courage to g;o to Jephthah, but put it off until the morrow. As h» walked along, ever smoothing the bird's feathers with caressing touches, he Biiddenly became a^rare of something smooih and hard fastened beneath it 3 wing. In atantly the thought occurred to him that it might be a message from Namarah ; but how, indeed, could it bo so ? Breathless with eagerness, he reached his chamber, and there found lights. Carefully shutting himself in. and even drawing the curtains of the windows close, he severed the cord that held in place the little folded note, and opening the sheet, read : •'Adina, my beloved: I can give thee no greeting as I pas 3 thy window, "but I shall even then have close to my breast the dove which is to bear this my last message to thee. The message is but this, that thou hast heard so often : I love thee, my most dear one, and I charge thee, by that love, give not thyself to heavy grief, but. ever take courage and have hope. If thou lovestf me, I "would have thee bear up with patience under the heavy burden God hath laid on thee, and to comfort my father Jephthah. Pray ever for deliverance for us both, and have faith that God will hear thee. Sorrow nofc, beloved, seeing that 1 ever love thee, both in this life and that which is to come. Thine, who doth love thee truly, Namarah." And underneath she had written the word "Mizpeh." In reading these lines, the soul of Adina was greatly comforted, so that lie felt a new courage come to him, and ever thereafter, until the two months were come to an end, he bore himself patiently and submissively, and murmured no more at the will of God. Each day that dawned Baw him. beside the old man .Jephthah, sustaining, comforting and cherishing him, though, mayhap, his own heart was even at that time sunk down with eagerness. And ever ho prayed to God most earnestly, both day and night, that He wonld comfort the soul of Narnarah, and deliver them both in His good time. The words, as he would speak them, were beyond his comprehension, for lie saw not liow what he prayed for could come to pass, but he prayed on still in blind faith, and waited patiently to see how God would answer. Ajad after he had brought the white Aoy& home that nighfc, ifc ever came to .him afterwards of its own accord, flying jat sunset ujto his window and perching sthere, if he was absent until he returned, *nd often he would take it in his handsand talk to if, such words as his frozen iieajrt refused to utter unto human ears, **nd ever it seemed to give him greater comfort than any human friend. As the two months of absence of the maiden Namarjih began to, draw to <i close, the soul of Adiiia grew each hour more exceeding sorrowful,, and Jephthah also wept heavily from morn till evening, «nd took no cornfoit save in the presence and companionship of Adina, who was become to him even as h'u own sou. And ever the prayers of each weni up to God ior the maiden Naraarah,. and/ Jephthah 'a.

prayer was ever that tho Lord would strengthen her to endure the trial set before her, -but the prayer of Adina was that- blind cry for deliverance.

And when the eve of the return of Namarah and her maidens was come, all the people of Mizpeh were aware of it, but so great was their sorrow for the maiden, Jthat they feared to look upon her face, and as, at set of suu, the children playing in the streets brought news that the maidens ' worn returning, behold, the people gat them to their house 3, they and their children, that none might look upon Namarah in her misery and affliction. And as Nnmarah and her maidens made their way along the streets of Mizpeh, behold, they made a picture* sad to see, for their garments of sackcloth were torn and stained with their sojourn in the wildness of the mountains, and their feet were sore find weary, and as Namarah walked first among them, her companions uttered a Jow wailing of distress. But the maiden herself was silout and raado no sound, either with her voice or with the worn-out sandals of her feet, but ever moved noiselessly as a shadow, with bont .head and hands clasped wearily.

No human creature did they Bee. Tho streets of Mizpeh were as uninhabited as were the mountain forests they had left, and a vast and solemn silence, more awful in this place of many habitations than in the open country, brooded over everything. As they moved along in slow procession, suddenly above their heads there was the sound of wings, and a flock of snow-white doves catne downward from high in the air, and, flying low, preceded them with slow and steady motions all up the empty streets. And as men or women here or there watched furtively from behind the drawn curtains of their windows, this most strange sight — the maidens in their mourning garments, preceded by the flock of white doves — struck awe unto their hearts. And added to the sight there was a strange and awful sound, for even as the maidens crooned their low, sad wails, the doves from their flight in the air joined to the sound their, plaintive cooing and complaining. To the other maidens it seemed as but an accident that the birds should meet and join themselves to the procession ; but Namarah believed it not. Her heart told her that her tenderly loved birds had recognised her, and before she reached the door of her father's house one of them had even separated from its companions, and circling a moment, as if in doubt, above her head, presently flew downward and alighted on her shoulder. Tncn did Namarah unclasp her hands aud take it under her cloak and press it against the warmth of her heart ; and although the feathers of its wings had grown out again, and it was even smooth and shapely and snow-white as the rest, she knew it to be the messenger between Adina and herself. Howbeit, she knew not that it had earned a stronger claim to her affection yet, in that it had been the chief companion and comfort of her lover during the long days and nights of her absence. And when Namarah and ht»r maidens reached the house of JVphthah, behold it was hung with mourning, and though the doors were wide, there was neither friend nor servant to be seen. So Namarah entered silently, and took her way towards the apar< men I of her father ; and as she came unto his door, she turned and spake unto the maidens, bidding them stay without in the hall while she went in alone. And as she thrust open the door and came into tho presence of her father Jephthah, behold he too was dressed in mourning garments, and he leaned upon the breast of the young man Adina, who was also clad in sackcloth ; and the faces of both men were white as be tho faces of tho dead ; and Adina had grown gaunt and hollow-cheeked and lost his ruddy color, while that her father was as one grown eld before his time. Aud Namarah spake no word, but shutting close the door behind her, she went and put her arm* about the neck of her father, but her eyes ehe gave unto her lover. Her hood had fallen backward, and her whito face rose from out its solemn mourning draperies as a fair flower springing out of earth ; and her eyes, made large and luminous through tastings and vigils, seemed as 'lie very windows of her spirit ; and in their depth Adina read a love unspeakable, unquenchable, and not to be surpassed. He understood her tender thought in clasping first her father before her touch sought his, for ifc was by reason of her father that thi3 blow was come upon them, and she felt he had great need of comfort and the assurance of her deep, unchanged affection ; but in that long, deep look into her lover's eyes, she gave him her whole self — not only her arms and her lips, but the very core of her soul. She emptied herself of self that she might be wholly his. For a moment they rested in that look, quiet and calm as the deeps of ocean, and then the maiden spake. " I pray thee leave me now, Adina," sha saith, softly, as the voice of Jephthah, her father, brake into great sobs while she smoothed his snow-white hair, and stilled him as a mother might her babe. "I would be with him alone, that my courage fail not ; for ho hath more need of comfort than either ycu or I. Return to me an hour after moon-rise in the garden." And Adina bowed his head and went, with never so much as a touch of her hand to feed the mighty hunger of his love, howbeit that look in her eyes which rested on him still, even as he left her presence, was as a draught divine wherewith the thirst of his soul might be quenched. Eveo before the coming of the time appointed, just as the moon was coming up behind the distant horizon, Adina made his silent way into the garden of Jephthah's house, and stood and waited. The hour of moonriso was just what it had been two montliß before, on the night of their parting herf, and in his ears were the same sounds of the bab- i bling brook and of the doves in their house near by. Up and down the young man pxced, his thumbs thrust into the \ belt wherewith his white tunis was held in place, and his whole body tense and j strained with the mightiness of his hardly mastered excitement. A light glimmered in the room of Jephthah, and on this he kept his g.ize, until presently it became in a moment softly shaded, as if to screen the eyia of one who slept. Nargarah, indeed, had soothed her father into a gentle slumber, and when it was known unto her that he slept, she stepped forth into the garden. She had even refreshed terself from her journey, and clothed herself in snowwhite garments, poifumed with myrrh and frankincense, in which she moved softly down the garden walks to meet him whom her soul did love. The grasses of summer bent beneath trie Boft pressure of her feet, and the vines divided themselves at the light touches of her

hands. The trees above her were as the wall of her temple of love, and the moon pierced through to light it. Adina stood and waited in the spot made sacred to them by the early dawnings as well as the fruition of their love ; and as the maiden, fair and white as if made of the rays of the moonlight, moved softly towards him, he stretched out his two arms. She came to them with full gladness and assurance, aa ono of her white doves, after long wandering, cometh home. Aud Adina spake no word ; only he drew her to him, and folded her to his breast, close, closo, as though he would never lose her again. .As she rested so, feeling against her heart tho full throb of his, while'thar his close clasp tightened and his breath came quick, it seemed to her a moment of such rapture that the i thought of her heart came forth in words as she said, on the breath of a low -drawn sigh : "I would that I could die even now !" - • m - And Adina &r;swere|3 : . . , 44 And I with thee, that OU7 souls together might return to God who gave them." % But Namarah made answer : " Nay, it wis unwisely said, seeing that we have left all to God, and we should have no choice but that His wisdom inaketh. Is ifc not so with thee, Adina ? Let me hear th Be say it, else my soul can have no rcbt." And Adma said, most tenderly : "Ay, beloved ; it is so." 41 Most merciful is our God," saith Namarah, "seeing that lie hath even comforted the soul of my iather, who hath fallen into a sweet reposo. It will be thou, my Adina. who will miss me most, for the heart of my father Jephthah is, first of all, the heart of a soldier, and rumors have reached him of approaching war, wherein ho will bo called upon again to lead the hosts of Israel to victory ; and it doth soothe me much to feel that therein he will find relief and cure for his sorrowing for me. But thou, my loved one, what wilt thou do without the maiden of thy love, who doth in turn love thes so mightily that she would even rather die to-morrow, in the flower of her youth, knowing the sweet possession o£ thy love, than live the longest life allotted unto woman, apart from thee or iv possession of that lesser love wherewith most women are content. Speak thou, beloved. Dost thou not feel that God hath richly blessed us both, and crowned our lives with good ?" And Adina answered : " Yes ; I feel it, maiden. And so great is my belief in Hi 3 lovingness and mercy that I cease not, even now, to pray the prayer thou gayest me for deliverance." "It is most sure," said Namarah, earnestly. "It may not be such a3 we i would choose or look for; but He hath j heard that prayer of mine and thine each ] time our hearts have breathed it, and the answer doth somewhere await u^. I love thy body, my Adina," she went on, " thy golden curls, wherein I seem to touch warm rays of rippling sunlight— thy sweet soft flesh, thy noble figure— thy hands, thy arms, thy most sweet lin3 and eyes, but more than these I love the spirit in thee, the self of thy soul, that in thy kisses and the glances of thine eyes is made one with the boul within this body, which is yet a dearer thing to thee, I know, than the flesh and eyes and lips thou lovest so. All flesh is as grass, and as the fl nver of the field passeth away, but our souls are of God — our love is but a part of the Supreme Love, and whatever happens to our bodies, surely our souls shall live forever in that love, in the presence of God and the angels." She spake these words in solemn whisperings, more tender than the cooing of the doves, more murmurous than the rippling of the brook, and as Adiua bent his head to answer her, their lips mot in a solemn kiss. No eye saw that parting, when at last Adina wrenched his heart away from hers. They two were alone in the silence with God. Even the dove came not near them to-night, but remained apart and alone, as if it had knowledge of all, and forbore to come between the beating of their hearts and the communion of their souls. At the rising of the fun next morning the altar wa3 made rondy in the heart of a deep wood, and by it stood a priest of the High God. The wood was in readiness, and the fire prepared, nor was the offering for sacrifice wanting. She stood, a pure virgin, clad in stainless white, and on her right hand was her father Jephthah, and on her left the young man Adina. And the face of the maiden Namarah was calm and peaceful, and her eyes trustful and quiet as be the eyes of children when they know their parents are close by. And her face, for all its paleness, was more beauteous to look upon than ever it, had been before, j for the light that shone upon it was nofc wholly that cast by the rising sun, but, as it were, a light from within her soul. And Adiua's face was radiant, too, so that it seemed as if one light illuminated them from within, even as the same sun from without. AndNamarah's voice, as she spake, was tranquil and assured. "Make ready thy fire, O priest of God," she said, " for all is ready." And she turned and kissed her father Jephthah full tenderly. Then, speaking once more unto tho priest, she said : "I pray thee, while that the fire is kindling, suffer us to kneel and say one prayer — I and the young man Adina," And they kneli together, both in virgin white, their hands clasped close, and their faces raised to Heaven, and the prayer of their hearts, even as the fire blazed and crackled, and the knife gleamed sharp and threatening near by, was that the God in whom they trusted would deliver them, in His own time and way. And they knelt so long in silence that the priest, who wished not to interrupt their prayers, was fain at last to speak to them, lest the sacved fires should burn j too low. But there came no answer to j his words, and when he turned and looked into their faces, that wondrous light was gone from them ; for their spirits had fled together, and the glare of sunshine upon them revealed that they were even the faces of the dead. And it was even so that God delivered them. This was His time and place, and He had chosen His own way. And that the vow which Jephthah had vowed might be accomplished, the body of the maiden Namarah was laid upon the altar, and with ifc the body of the young man Adina, a burnt offering unto the Lord. And aa the fires upon tho altar began to sink, an object that seemed to fall straight from out the sky dropped down and fell into the flames ; and lo ! it was the body of a snow-white dove, which ! had been even dead before it touched the fire upon the altar. JD 4 THE END.

Permanent link to this item

https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/TT18910725.2.25

Bibliographic details

Tuapeka Times, Volume XXIV, Issue 1815, 25 July 1891, Page 1 (Supplement)

Word Count
3,359

Movelist. Jephthah's Daughter. Tuapeka Times, Volume XXIV, Issue 1815, 25 July 1891, Page 1 (Supplement)

Movelist. Jephthah's Daughter. Tuapeka Times, Volume XXIV, Issue 1815, 25 July 1891, Page 1 (Supplement)

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