The quasi liberty made her interest in
this stranger at least not entirely sinful.
"Who are you?" he demanded finally.
How, then, could she tell him that she was the wife of the man who had
treacherously attempted his life? How, also, since she was denied by
every one in that house, expect him to believe her? The bitterness of
her recent interview with Amaryllis rose to the surface again.
"I am nothing; I have no name; I am nobody!" she cried.
He was startled.
"What is this? Are you not welcome in this house?" he demanded.
"Yes--and no! Amaryllis is good--but--"
"But what?"
She shook her head.
"Surely, thou canst speak without fear to me," he said gently.
"There is--only Amaryllis is kind," she essayed finally.
He laid his hand on her wrist.
"Is it--the woman from Ascalon?" he asked, his suspicion lighting
instantly upon the wife whom he had expected to meet.
She flung up her head and gazed at him with startled eyes. He believed
that he had touched upon the fact.
"So!" he exclaimed.
"She has deceived Philadelphus--" she whispered defensively, but he
broke in sharply.
"Whom hath she deceived?"
She closed her lips and looked at him perplexed. Certainly this was
the companion of Philadelphus, who had told her freely half of her
husband's ambitions, long before he had come to Jerusalem. She could
not have betrayed her husband in thus mentioning his name.
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