Chapter VI: The Cave of Elijah

Anne Whiteside was sitting in her own room, absorbed in thought, whilst near by, in his little white bed, lay her sleeping boy. Raie’s words had sunk deep into her mind—so deep that she could think of nothing else. Had she been told of such a cave in England she would probably have considered it unworthy her attention, but here in Palestine the conditions were entirely of another kind. She remembered the story of the pool of Bethesda, where the great multitude of impotent folk waited for the moving of the water; and to her it seemed quite as likely for a miracle to happen in a cave as in a pool. Moreover, the very soil of Palestine was sacred, and more associated with divine interposition than any country in the world, so that it seemed to lend itself to the miraculous as a matter of course.

“With God all things are possible,” she said to herself. “The arm of the Lord is not shortened.” The physicians were unable to cure the lad, and had pronounced his case hopeless; but surely no case was beyond the power of the Great Physician? She was determined to have faith.

The boy awoke, and blinking sleepily at the light, glanced at his grandmother, but no ray of intelligence crossed his face. He knew her, of course—he would take his food at the hands of no one else; but he showed no sign of recognition, and gazed vacantly into space. Anne moved the lamp in order to prevent the glare from hurting his eyes, then fetched him a glass of fresh cocoanut milk. He drank it greedily, and asked for more, but the old nurse thought he had had sufficient, and coaxed him to try and sleep.

Sitting by the bed, she sang a crooning little melody, such as might be used to lull a baby in a cradle, whilst her fingers busily plied a pair of woollen socks. There was no sound to break the stillness but that of her own voice, yet she was quite oblivious of the gentle lifting of the latch. A sudden shadow on the opposite wall, however, caused her to look up suddenly, and without any sense of surprise she discovered a swarthy Arab at her side.

“Mustaph!” she exclaimed, putting down her needles in haste. “You have come from the Princess? What does her Highness say?”

For answer he produced a note from the folds of his inner garment and handed it with a bow. The nurse took it with trembling fingers and broke the seal. Then she adjusted her spectacles and turned towards the light. Mustaph complacently squatted on the floor.

“_I think your project considerably fraught with risk both to the boy
and yourself_,” it ran; “_but if you are determined to venture, I will
not deter you. To-morrow will be a good opportunity on account of the
full moon, and my carriage will be at your disposal. Be ready an hour
and a half before sunset, when one of my servants shall call. Please
inform Mustaph if this arrangement is satisfactory, or if you have
changed your mind. Personally, I should advise you to leave well alone
rather than be guided by a Mohammedan superstition._

_O. von Felsen-Schvoenig._”

To read and digest the note took some little time; but the Arabs are never in a hurry, and Mustaph waited with calm patience. Anne sank on to a chair, with her back to the man and her elbows resting on the pillows of the bed. ‘To be, or not to be?’ that was the question which sent a thrill of agitation through her being. Whether it were better for Tom to remain as he was—a helpless imbecile—or to undergo the chance of being cured. Cured! The very word set all her pulses throbbing, and made the blood course rapidly through her veins. To have his intellect restored, to be clothed and in his right mind, like the demoniac of old, to be a help and a comfort instead of the burden he ever remained! For she knew he was a burden, in spite of the assurances she always gave herself to the contrary. His condition necessitated more attention than she was ever able to give him, even though he was watched by some obliging friend when she was away. Cured! As in a vision she saw him growing up beside her, his form no longer delicate and shrunken, but strong and stalwart with the vigour of youth; his face glowing with intelligence instead of that vacant expression which seemed to cleave her heart in twain. If he were but healthy like other boys, her life would be a very paradise on earth, for it but needed this to complete her happiness. A mist rose before her eyes as she gazed at the poor old-young face, the large forehead which betokened not intellect but idiocy, the heavy eyelids closed in sleep.

“Oh, Christ, dear Lord, help me!” she whispered, clasping her hands in an agony of indecision. She knew not what to do for the best.

Mustaph, noticing her agitation, rose from the floor and approached with wonder.

“_Malaish!_” he exclaimed, using the Arab term of condolence. “What matter? _Mafîsh._ There is nothing.”

“The cave,” she said, raising her head. “The Cave of Elijah. You have been there. Is it true that people are cured?”

He stared at her interrogatively, scarcely understanding her words.

“_Fen_—where? The cave? Boy go? _Haiwa._ Yes, varry good.”

Then he nodded vigorously, meaning to say that he knew all about it now.

“Tell her Highness I have made up my mind to try with Tom,” Anne said, deciding suddenly. “I will be ready at the time she says—before sunset. But I suppose I had better write it.”

And finding a pencil, she scribbled the message on the reverse side of the Princess’s note. She felt as if she had cast the die.

Nodding and smiling, the Arab departed, and she was left to herself again. The boy was still asleep, with a look almost of babyhood on his face. If he suffered in any way by his visit to the cave she was certain she would never forgive herself; but the temptation to make the trial was too great to be passed by.

“You will be cured, Tom!” she exclaimed softly, as she bent down and kissed him on the forehead. “I know you will; I can feel it in my heart. No more weary hours, no more pain, dearest. Oh, to see you no longer suffering! ’Tis worth the trial of faith!”

She paced the room, scarcely able to contain her deeply-stirred emotions, and without the least inclination for rest. And when she did go to bed, sleep refused to come, so that she tossed the whole night through, and longed for daylight. But she was up again at the usual early hour, and fulfilled her duties with no lack of energy. Fearing to receive discouragement, she did not inform the Montellas of her intention to put the matter to the test that night, and only the Princess, to whom she had rendered some service in Haifa, was in the secret. Punctual to the appointed time the car appeared before her door, with two servants in attendance, and fortunately there were few people about to wonder at its coming. Anne’s heart beat fast as she placed the lad in the most comfortable seat, and took up her position beside him. The cee-spring and thick rubber tires on the wheels of the vehicle minimised the jolting, which would otherwise have rendered the drive more or less unpleasant, and the white awning served to protect the occupants from the glare of the sun. Occasionally a string of soft-treading camels passed them, their sweetly-sounding bells announcing their approach; or the peasant-women in their picturesque blue robes would stand and stare at them, perhaps in the hope of selling some of the milk which they carried in pans on their heads. The road on the mountain side lay between rich and beautiful vineyards, and as they ascended a glorious view expanded before their gaze. Northwards sparkled the waters of the bay, across which, at a distance of about twelve miles, lay Akka, once in the coasts of the Gentiles, but now a Jewish town. Eastwards rose the hills of Galilee, whose undulating ranges overlooked Nazareth, Cana, and the Sacred Lake; and far away in the distance towered the snowy cap of Hermon, like the only cloud in a clear sky. Around them was spread the rich flora of the Carmel ridge, with occasional Druze villages nestling on its slopes; and close at hand the happy twittering of the birds fell on the fragrant air. Anne drew a deep breath of enjoyment, feeling that here—so close to the scene of Elijah’s victory over the prophets of Baal—nothing was impossible. The very atmosphere seemed charged with the miraculous, the Oriental colouring bridged over the distance from that time of old. It was the first time she had been any distance from the town, the first time that she was able to realise that this was in truth the land of the Bible; and the fascination of it all crept over her spirit—that peculiar spell of the Holy Land.

The Princess was waiting for them when they arrived at the hotel. It was characteristic of her to treat her inferiors with as much deference as her equals, and since the nurse had obtained the promise of this favour, she would not stint the measure of her goodwill. A substantial repast had been prepared for them in her private sitting-room; and with her own hands she ministered to their wants. Yet if at home in Felsen-Schvoenig her husband had asked for such an attention, she would have replied that she was not a serving-maid. She was indeed a mixture of perversity, but a sweet woman withal.

“Tom does not look so well to-day,” she observed, as she coaxed him to eat. “Do you think the journey has been too much for him, Anne?”

Anne was not sure, but she thought he must have benefited by the lovely drive.

“If your Highness will allow me to feed him, I think he will get on better,” she suggested cheerfully, and held the spoon to his lips as though he had been a child.

The meal over, they re-entered the little carriage, and prepared to start for the wonderful cave. Standing under the stone portico, the Princess wished them farewell.

“I shall think of you to-night,” she said, with a smile of encouragement. “I hope the cure will work.”

“If God will,” was the nurse’s rejoinder. “I thank your Highness for the great help you have given me.”

But the Princess would not receive her gratitude.

“I will send the carriage for you at dawn,” she called out, as the coachman took up the reins; and then again wishing luck to the venture, she disappeared from view.

The cave, which was formed out of the limestone of which the mountain was composed, was reached shortly after leaving the hotel. A chapel had been built there to commemorate the place, but it had been done away with when the Jews came into possession, and now there existed nothing to distinguish it from other caves. Coming into it from the open air, it seemed to exhale an atmosphere of warm humidity, and the walls, when Anne felt them, were quite damp. Mustaph had brought with him a lamp, some warm blankets, and a small folding-chair, but in spite of these commodities, the place scarcely promised to be a comfortable one in which to spend the night. The shadows gathered as they made their preparations, and the nurse shivered, though scarcely with cold. Even Tom, who scarcely ever displayed an emotion of any kind, seemed frightened, and at first refused to lie down in the strange floor-bed allotted to him. At sunset Mustaph took off his shoes, spread his mat, and said his prayers in approved Mohammedan fashion, after which he took up his position on guard at the mouth of the cave. The lighted lamp brought with it a homely ray of comfort, but it was too small to adequately illumine the cavern, and the corners were dark and black. Amidst such eerie surroundings, Anne would not have been surprised at any apparition or supernatural manifestation, and as the time wore on, she worked herself up to an intense pitch of excitement. Tom lay awake for several hours with wide-open, frightened eyes, his hands clutching tightly at the counterpane, whilst in his own way he expressed his disapproval and fear. At last, however, his hands unclosed and his features relaxed, and closing his eyes wearily, he dropped off to sleep.

Anne heaved a trembling sigh as she sank on to her knees at his side. Who could tell what would have happened by the time he awoke again? Crossing her hands on her breast to still the rapid beating of her heart, she sent up a passionate entreaty to Heaven to grant her prayers for the boy. What would she not do to show her gratitude if only he were cured of his disease! How devoted her life would be to the Most High henceforth! She was not the first soul who has presumed to bribe the Almighty when in distress: it is a common human instinct to think that we can gain a divine benefaction by promising to do something great and magnanimous in return.

The silence was intense, but suddenly it was broken by a weird and melancholy sound. The nurse started in affright, wondering from whence it came, and listened with distended eyes. Moving towards the entrance, she called to Mustaph, who was endeavouring to rouse himself from sleep, whilst the sound continued, just like a cry of woe.

“A jackal,” the Arab replied imperturbably. “_Malaish_—never mind. I tell him _imshi_—be off! _La!_ no. He not come here. Ma’am not be afraid. He only howl.”

Anne was thankful to hear the sound of a human voice.

“I wish the night were over,” she said, with a sigh. “Tom is fast asleep. Are you sure we have done everything properly? I am so anxious. I cannot sleep.”

Mustaph suppressed a yawn.

“Allah is good!” he exclaimed wearily. “Ma’am must sleep, or else Elijah not come. To stay awake is _harâm_—forbidden. I tell jackal _imshi_. Ma’am sleep.”

So Anne returned to the interior of the cave, and wrapping herself in a blanket, tried to fulfil the command. The howling and whimpering of the jackals continued for some time, but she covered her ears, and did her best to shut out the sound. She was, indeed, very tired, and since it was necessary that she should sleep, she was determined not to keep awake. Gradually she lost consciousness, until the cheerless cave entirely disappeared, to be replaced by a phantomatic but more happy slumberland. The night wore on, but nothing happened to disturb her dreams, and she slept right on until a strip of light in the east heralded the dawn. Then she awoke with a start to find her two companions still asleep, the Arab in his place at the mouth of the cave. Pulling herself together, she rose and stretched wearily, and then bent over her beloved grandchild. He was lying in the same position, but so still that he might have been a waxen figure instead of a human boy. With an indefinable sense of alarm she knelt down beside him, and scarcely knowing what she was doing, felt his heart and his wrist. Then a low cry of anguish echoed and re-echoed through the silence of the cavern—the cry of a broken-hearted woman.

For the light of her life had been extinguished—the boy was quite dead!

She remained in her kneeling position, totally stunned. It was possible that lying on the floor the damp vapours had poisoned him, but it did not occur to her yet to seek the cause; it mattered not how he died, since there was no hope of his instantaneous resurrection. But while she knelt, her eyes blinded with tears, there appeared before her mind’s eye something which was almost akin to a vision. The cave in which she had slept for so many hours became the rock-hewn sepulchre of Mary and Martha’s brother, and in fancy she heard the sweet but authoritative Voice: “_Lazarus, come forth!_” Oh, that that same Voice might utter the command over the inanimate figure of her boy! But no, that Voice spake no longer, save in the souls of men. Of a different nature, though no less potent, were the miracles of to-day.

“_‘He asked life of Thee, and Thou gavest it him, even length of days for ever and ever’!_” she quoted, in a whisper, as her lips touched the ice-cold forehead of the lad. She had prayed that he might be cured, that he might spend no more weary hours, and have no more pain. Ought she not to be happy since God in His own way had cured the child? Certain it was that for him there would be no more suffering and weariness. “_‘Even length of days for ever and ever’!_” she repeated, as she went to inform the Arab.

She was no longer sorrowful. The boy was cured at last!