“Own dearest father:  Can you, will you ever forgive your disobedient Leah?  I shudder when I think of you, reading these lines in the morning, when I shall be far away from your loving embrace!  But, dear father, you know I did not desire to go to Saxony, so far away from you; fearing, yes, even knowing that circumstances would arise to prevent my return.  I cannot explain my meaning, dear father, for fear of imperilling your happiness.  I prefer to live on, as I have done for years, with the secret of my sorrow-the secret that impels me to this act of disobedience-hidden in my heart.  I fear your wrath, and yet, dear father, I cannot go.  I prefer to remain and marry the one whom, next to yourself, I love above all mankind-Emile Le Grande.  Yes, dear father, when your eyes peruse these lines, I shall be his wife, and far away on my journey to our distant home.  He loves me, and I love him, yet more than once have I refused his love, in deference to your teachings, that ’to deny my people and my faith, by marriage with a Christian, was worse than death, and an everlasting disgrace.’  Can I hope, then, for your forgiveness, even though I seek it on bended knees, dear father?  Had I been allowed to remain at home, I never should have married him, certainly not in the clandestine manner I propose.  I flee to the love and protection of Emile, as an alternative to a dreadful fate.  Oh! pity and forgive me, father; love me, even though I bring sorrow to your tender, loving heart.  In my new home, I shall watch and wait for some tidings, some missive like a white-winged dove, bearing me a single word of love and remembrance from my beloved father.  If it comes not, alas! ah me! you may always know there’s a sorrow in my heart that no amount of happiness or prosperity can ever eradicate-a darkness that no sunshine can ever dispel.

“And now again, and lastly, my father, I pray that the blessing of the great God of Israel may ever rest upon your venerable head; and will you not, too, invoke His blessing to descend upon the head of your unworthy and unhappy child?  Dear, dear, precious father, now adieu, a long tearful adieu, till I receive your blessing.  “Sorrowfully, your own “Leah.”

Stupefied and amazed, Mr. Mordecai scarcely realized the import of the words that his flashing eye devoured, till the familiar signature was reached.  Then, as if a flood of light had burst upon his blinded vision, came the dreadful revelation; involuntarily he exclaimed, “Eternal God!  It cannot be!  It is not possible, that my child has fled from me!  Gone with a Christian dog, to become his wife; seduced by his honeyed words from the embrace of my love to that of his faithless heart!  Torn from my home to follow the wanderings of a villain!  Oh, God!  Oh, heaven!  It cannot be!  It must not be!  I swear, by Israel, it shall not be!  Oh my child! my daughter, my own precious Leah?  Where art thou?  Where hast thou fled, my daughter?”