“No, I am all right,” said Hannah wearily, opening the eyes she had closed.  “Do not make so certain, father.  Look at your books again.  Perhaps they do make an exception in such a case.”

The Reb shook his head hopelessly.

“Do not expect that,” he said.  “Believe me, my Hannah, if there were a gleam of hope I would not hide it from you.  Be a good girl, dear, and bear your trouble like a true Jewish maiden.  Have faith in God, my child.  He doeth all things for the best.  Come now—­rouse yourself.  Tell David you will always be a friend, and that your father will love him as though he were indeed his son.”  He moved towards her and touched her tenderly.  He felt a violent spasm traversing her bosom.

“I can’t, father,” she cried in a choking voice.  “I can’t.  Don’t ask me.”

David leaned against the manuscript-littered table in stony silence.  The stern granite faces of the old continental Rabbis seemed to frown down on him from the walls and he returned the frown with interest.  His heart was full of bitterness, contempt, revolt.  What a pack of knavish bigots they must all have been!  Reb Shemuel bent down and took his daughter’s head in his trembling palms.  The eyes were closed again, the chest heaved painfully with silent sobs.

“Do you love him so much, Hannah?” whispered the old man.

Her sobs answered, growing loud at last.

“But you love your religion more, my child?” he murmured anxiously.  “That will bring you peace.”

Her sobs gave him no assurance.  Presently the contagion of sobbing took him too.

“O God!  God!” he moaned.  “What sin have I committed; that thou shouldst punish my child thus?”

“Don’t blame God!” burst forth David at last.  “It’s your own foolish bigotry.  Is it not enough your daughter doesn’t ask to marry a Christian?  Be thankful, old man, for that and put away all this antiquated superstition.  We’re living in the nineteenth century.”

“And what if we are!” said Reb Shemuel, blazing up in turn.  “The Torah is eternal.  Thank God for your youth, and your health and strength, and do not blaspheme Him because you cannot have all the desire of your heart or the inclination of your eyes.”

“The desire of my heart,” retorted David.  “Do you imagine I am only thinking of my own suffering?  Look at your daughter—­think of what you are doing to her and beware before it is too late.”

“Is it in my hand to do or to forbear?” asked the old man, “It is the Torah.  Am I responsible for that?”

“Yes,” said David, out of mere revolt.  Then, seeking to justify himself, his face lit up with sudden inspiration.  “Who need ever know?  The Maggid is dead.  Old Hyams has gone to America.  So Hannah has told me.  It’s a thousand to one Leah’s people never heard of the Law of Leviticus.  If they had, it’s another thousand to one against their putting two and two together.  It requires a Talmudist like