they hated for a crafty Jew, and partly from Roman courtesy to the two sorrowing women, rolled a huge stone against the mouth of the tomb. But Annas had already proceeded down the hill, as though refusing to be witness to the act that he himself had first suggested.
Nicodemus lingered for one moment to bid farewell to the two he knew and loved so well, and to ask the question he had already longed to put: "Thinkest thou still the Lord will come?"
"He will come, He will come," wailed Martha; "but my brother is dead; my brother will rise no more."
"But at the resurrection," chimed in Mary softly. And then, while Nicodemus hurried on to catch up with Annas, the two women, with arms entwined, wandered back to their solitary home, bereft for the future of all its joy and sunlight and the chief interest of their lives. Behind them walked a little band of old and trusted friends, wailing and bemoaning according to Jewish custom. On the clear evening air their voices sounded like a celestial chorus.
"I will weep bitterly. Labour not to comfort me. For it is a day of trouble, and of treading down, and of perplexity by the Lord God of Hosts in the valley of vision. Look away from me, look away from me: I will weep bitterly."
Then a woman's voice alone took up the verse from the Song of Solomon.
"Where is thy beloved gone? Whither is thy beloved turned aside? that we may seek him with thee."
Then they all joined in once more: "Look away
