care what I am."

"If that be so, you may be a woman very soon," said Rebecca.

"That is more than you know," said Anton, turning very sharply on her.
"What do you know of my marriage, or when it will be?"

"Are you scolding her too?" said the elder Trendellsohn.

"Nay, father; let him do so," said Rebecca. "He has known me long
enough to scold me if he thinks that I deserve it. You are gentle to me
and spoil me, and it is only well that one among my old friends should
be sincere enough to be ungentle."

"I beg your pardon, Rebecca, if I have been uncourteous."

"There can be no pardon where there is no offence."

"If you are ashamed to hear of your marriage," said the father, "you
should be ashamed to think of it."

Then there was silence for a few seconds before anyone spoke. The girls
did not dare to speak after words so serious from the father to the
son. It was known to both of them that Anton could hardly bring himself
to bear a rebuke even from his father, and they felt that such a rebuke
as this, given in their presence, would be altogether unendurable.
Every one in the room understood the exact position in which each
stood to the other. That Rebecca would willingly have become Anton's
wife, that she had refused various offers of marriage in order that
ultimately it might be so, was known to Stephen Trendellsohn, and to
Anton himself, and to Ruth Jacobi. There had not been the pretence of
any secret among them in the matter. But the subject was one which
could hardly be discussed by them openly. "Father," said Anton, after a
while, during which the black thunder-cloud which had for an instant
settled on his brow had managed to dispel itself without bursting into
a visible storm--"father, I am neither ashamed to think of my intended
marriage nor to speak of it. There is no question of shame. But it is
unpleasant to make such a subject matter of general conversation when
it is a source of trouble instead of joy among us. I wish I could have
made you happy by my marriage."

"You will make me very wretched."

"Then let us not talk about it. It cannot be altered. You would not
have me false to my plighted word?"

Again there was silence for some minutes, and then Rebecca spoke--the
words coming from her in the lowest possible accents.

"It can be altered without breach of your plighted word. Ask the young
woman what she herself thinks. You will find that she knows that you
are both wrong."

"Of cours