"Come, lift up your head, my dear," she went on, trying to entice the captive to consent by encouraging waves of her hand.
They were fruitless; still, had any thought of it there was meaning in them.

On Nehushta's finger, as it chanced, shone a ring which Miriam ought to know, seeing that for some years she had worn it on her own.
It would seem that she did know it, at any rate her bosom and neck grew red and a spasm passed across her face which even the falling hair did not suffice to hide.
The ring told Miriam that Marcus lived and that Nehushta was his messenger.

This suspense at least was ended.
Now the door-keeper called a warning and the buyers flocked from the building.

Outside, the auctioneer, a smooth-faced, glib-tongued man, was already mounting the rostrum.

Calling for silence he began his speech.
On this evening of festival, he said, he would be brief.