Now the next day Nathan came in hastily long before the usual hour.  “Master, another enemy is come—­the man Crawley!  I saw him from the window; he saw not me.  What shall I do?”

“Keep the house all day.  I would not have him see you.  He would say, ‘Aha! the old Jew is here, too.’” Nathan’s countenance fell.  He was a prisoner now as well as his master.

The next morning, rising early to prepare their food, he was surprised to find the old man smoking his pipe down below.

“All is well, my son.  My turn has come.  I have had great patience, and great is the reward.”  He then told him with natural exultation the long conference he had been secretly present at between Crawley and Meadows—­a conference in which the enemy had laid bare, not his guilt only, but the secret crevice in his coat of mail.  “She loves him not!” cried Levi, with exultation.  “She is his dupe!  With a word I can separate them and confound him utterly.”

“Oh, master!” cried the youth eagerly, “speak that word to-day, and let me be there and hear it spoken if I have favor in your eyes.”

“Speak it to-day!” cried Levi, with a look of intense surprise at Nathan’s simplicity.  “Go to, foolish youth!” said he; “what, after I have waited months and months for vengeance, would you have me fritter it away for want of waiting a day or two longer?  No, I will strike, not the empty cup from his hand, but the full cup from his lips.  Aha! you have seen the Jew insulted and despised in many lands; have patience now and you shall see how he can give blow for blow; ay! old, and feeble, and without a weapon, can strike his adversary to the heart.”

Nathan’s black eye flashed.  “You are the master, I the scholar,” said he.  “All I ask is to be permitted to share the watching for your enemy’s words, since I may not go abroad while it is day.”

Thus the old and young lynx lay in ambush all day.  And at night the young lynx prowled, but warily, lest Crawley should see him; and every night brought home some scrap of intelligence.

To change the metaphor, it was as though while the Western spider wove his artful web round the innocent fly, the Oriental spider wove another web round him, the threads of which were so subtle as to be altogether invisible.  Both East and West leaned with sublime faith on their respective gossamers. nor remembered that “Dieu dispose.”

CHAPTER LXXXII.

MEADOWS rode to Grassmere, to try and prevail with Susan to be married on Thursday next, instead of Monday.  As he rode he revolved every argument he could think of to gain her compliance.  He felt sure she was more inclined to postpone the day than to advance it, but something told him his fate hung on this:  “These two men will come home on Monday.  I am sure of it.  Ay, Monday morning, before we can wed.  I will not throw a chance away; the game is too close.”  Then he remembered