ISKANDER EFFENDI. 51 



heard most of all the voice of my Christian mother, pray- 

 ing alone, as she was accustomed to pray; for my father 

 forbade her praying with me, and that I believe killed 

 her. Many a time I had wondered whether there was 

 not something in that religion of my gentle mother, and 

 now it came over me with a hitherto unknown force. 1 

 knew the Christian story well. Every word of it I had 

 read over and over in former years, for my mother's 

 prayers were not prayers to be overheard and forgotten ; 

 and now, as the sunlight faded above Jerusalem, I re- 

 membered the story of the Passion, and, recalling all its 

 touching mournfulness, I bowed my head. 



" ' Iskander the Jew is sorrowful to-night.' 



" It was my rescuer of the night previous. He was 

 alone, and would pause now but a moment. 



" ' I saw you in the bazaar yesterday/ he said. 



" ' But I saw you not.' 



"'You do not recognize a Druse without his head- 

 dress.' 



" I started to my feet. He smiled, and went on 

 quietly. 



" ' You speak English. I heard you when I shot at 

 the scoundrelly Bedouin.' 



"'And you replied in English.' 



"'Very true. We will drop the Arabic then, and use 

 the vernacular, especially as we may be overheard. You 

 are an American.' 



" ' How know you that ?' 



" ' Because no Englishman could do the Oriental as 

 you have, and more especially because of our last night's 

 experience. I am from New York myself, long ago; 

 you ?' 



" ' From the same city.' 



