upon a couch in the house of john lay the stranger who had rescued stephen from death. about him were gathered those of the household who chanced to be at home when the sad little procession had arrived.

"he gave his life for mine," said stephen, solemnly, looking down at the quiet face across which the shadow of approaching death had already fallen. "and god hath accepted the sacrifice; it is not his will that he be restored. would that i knew to whom i owe this debt of gratitude before he goes hence."

"he will recover consciousness, i think, shortly," said mary, laying her cool white fingers on the brow of the sufferer. "he is assuredly not a jew," she added, gazing intently at the dark face upon the pillows. "fetch me a basin and sponge, my daughter; it may be that the cool water will revive him."

the girl to whom she had spoken hastened to obey. as she stooped to pour water from a jar which stood without in the courtyard, a young man hurriedly entered the enclosure.

"where is stephen?" he cried, as his eye fell upon the maiden. "i heard but just now that herod had crushed him beneath his chariot wheels. a brutal deed. he that told me was an eye-witness."

"by the mercy of god," answered the girl with a half sob, "he hath escaped with a bruise; another was smitten in his place, and he is dying. i must hasten with the water!" and she sprang up and hurried away.

the young man followed, and approaching the group that surrounded the couch, he looked over the shoulder of the young girl as she held the basin ready for the hand of mary. he started as his eye fell upon the wounded man.

"he is an egyptian!" he exclaimed.

even as he spoke, the man opened his eyes. "water!" he gasped faintly. stephen raised the languid head while the skilful hand of mary held the cup.

"lay him down again, gently--so," she said in a low voice.

then stephen bent over the pillow. "canst thou tell us who thou art, and why it was that thou didst choose the life of another rather than thine own?"

the dull eyes brightened a little, "did i save him? ah, yes--thanks be to the gods! thou art alive. did any hurt befall thee?"

"nay--but i live, alas, because thou art to die."

"it is well, not only that thou wilt live, but that i shall die, if the god whom thou dost proclaim will but count my worthless life a sacrifice for my many sins."

"nay, my brother," said stephen, "if thou dost but believe on jesus the christ, there is no sacrifice needed for sin; he gave himself a sacrifice for our transgressions because of the love which he bare us."

"it cannot be that he loves me," said the sick man. "listen till i shall tell thee all. i am an egyptian, my name is amu----"

the maiden who still stood at his bedside grew very white at the sound of that name, and the newcomer, who was watching from behind, reached quietly out and took the basin from her nerveless fingers. "anat," he whispered, "'tis a common enough name."

"it is he," she returned, "i know the voice--but listen!"

"early in life," continued the egyptian, his voice gathering strength, "i was even as others, neither better, nor worse,--'tis not of those days i would speak, but of the days when i was a man grown--then it chanced that there came a certain stranger out of the wilderness with his wife and child, and sojourned in egypt. he possessed gold and bought for himself a plot of land not far from the river. this he tilled with industry, so that after a time he gained more gold and bought still another bit of tillage. not much, for land was costly in the neighborhood of the river. i was his neighbor and i was not unfriendly to him, for he was a stranger and knew not the ways of the people, nor at the first the proper grains to cast into the earth. and because i helped him in such small matters he loved me and clave to me, as also his wife; and i was ever an honored guest in their house. after a time, there came a great sickness over all the region about the upper nile, because the river failed to overflow his banks at the proper season. the people were wasted by it, and they died by hundreds and by thousands. my father and my brothers died; and the plot of land which had been theirs came to me.

"after a time the man who had come out of the wilderness was likewise stricken, and his wife; and when it presently appeared that they both must die, he sent for me and spake to me after this manner, 'my friend, who hath been to me even as a brother in this land of strangers wherein we have sojourned, i am sorely stricken, both i and the mother of the children, and it must presently come to pass that we be gathered to our fathers; but before my soul passes i would fain speak to thee of my little ones who will be left desolate, if so be that the plague spares them.' 'speak,' i made answer, 'i will do with them as thou dost command.' then he told me how that he was a greek born in antioch, and the son of a rich man. after his father died a fierce quarrel arose betwixt the two brothers over the division of the inheritance; and when after many days the bitterness still continued, it came to pass that he smote his brother and wounded him sore; then taking what he would he fled away into the wilderness. there he took to himself a wife from the tribes that wandered in the desert and afterward came to dwell in egypt.

"'now i pray and beseech thee,' he said to me, 'by all that thou boldest sacred, that thou wilt take my two children and the price of the land--when thou shalt have sold it--and fetch them to my brother, for i have heard that he yet liveth, and say to him this: thy brother is dead. he sendeth thee the money that he took away--and more; and here are also his two children. let them find favor in thy sight, i pray thee, for they are desolate.'

"i promised my neighbor that i would do what he desired of me; and i sware it by the temple of ptah hotep, and by the sacred nile, and by the soul of my father. and when he had told me his brother's name and how to find him, he turned himself about on his bed and spoke no more. in that same day both he and his wife perished. of the two children one was likewise stricken, and i watched her many days till she recovered. afterward i perceived that she had become blind by reason of the plague.

"that season i could not sell the land, for there were none to buy; so i planted the crops and reaped them, and the children ate and were satisfied; but the money i received for the grain i kept, for i said the laborer is worthy of his wages. the next season i also planted and reaped, and the next; and at the time of the third harvest a man came to me and said, 'wilt thou sell this land for thy neighbor's children?' and i answered him 'nay, i will not sell. my neighbor owed me money and he died without repaying me, therefore is the land mine!' and after a time i came almost to believe what i had said. but i waxed exceeding bitter against the two children, who were as yet only babes; so i sent them away to a woman who dwelt in the tombs above the river; and i paid her to keep them. afterward she died, and the two continued to dwell alone in the tombs. they grew and waxed strong--though no one cared for them, for the boy was lusty and brave; he had become a water-carrier. still i kept a watch upon them, for i feared lest they should in some way find out what i had done; though i confessed it to no one, not even my wife. after a time the fear grew upon me so that i could neither eat nor sleep, and i resolved to rid myself of the two. i had not yet grown evil enough to wish to slay them, so i turned the thing over in my mind for many days; at the last i was resolved what to do. i would sell them for slaves, then would they be taken away and i should be free from my fears; not only so, but i should receive gold, with which to buy more land. but when i would have accomplished my desires upon them, they fled away into the desert, and assuredly perished; for though i searched for them long, i could never find what had become of them."

"why didst thou search for them," said seth suddenly, as the man paused to drink from the cup which mary again held to his parched lips.

"i searched for them," replied the man, his eyes resting upon his questioner's face with a startled expression, "because--nay, i hardly know why. i had repented me of my desire to make slaves of them, but i was not ready to give up the land."

"what became of besa?"

"i found him dead in the tomb where he thought the twain were hidden," answered the egyptian as if in a dream. "but who art thou that dost question me?" and he half raised himself in the bed, his livid face growing yet more ghastly with the painful effort.

"we are the children of the man thou didst wrong," said seth fiercely. "tell me, what was the name of our kinsman, that we may yet seek him as our father willed?"

"his name was erastus; but, alas, he is dead now these many years. i sought him that i might render an account of what i had done, for i feared death on account of my sin. neither dared i pray any more to the avenging gods; for had i not foresworn myself in their names? so, because there was no longer any comfort for me in the lands which i possessed, nor in my children, nor in anything in the whole land of egypt, i became a wanderer in far countries. here in jerusalem not many days since, i chanced to hear a wondrous thing, 'that they which had sinned might find peace and forgiveness in one jesus of nazareth, who had lived upon earth that he might save them which were lost.' that same day i beheld him that had spoken these words; and i drew near, desiring to ask him still further of the matter, when on a sudden i saw that he was in mortal peril. i scarce know what followed; but i longed to save him, if only that i might hear once more the strange story of the man jesus. tell me"--and the man's glazing eyes sought stephen--"thou hast heard all--is there forgiveness for such as i?"

"there is forgiveness for every one that doth repent and believe in the lord jesus," said stephen softly. "surely thou mayest pass in peace, my brother; for god hath led thee even by the thorny ways of thy sin unto himself."

the dying man's eyes again brightened, his lips moved; then he stretched out his hand toward the youth and the maiden, who had sunken to their knees by his bedside. "wilt thou also forgive?" he murmured.

"yes--yes. we forgive thee fully, as also we hope to be forgiven," cried seth, pressing his lips to the cold hand which had so cruelly wronged him.

"thy mother--her name was zarah," faltered the egyptian--"she was the daughter--of--" his voice failed him; thrice he made an unavailing effort to speak, then the eternal silence fell softly upon him.

"he hath passed into the presence of the love that hath led him through all the weary way of his life," said mary solemnly. "there will he find peace."