g the meal; but moved uneasily in her chair, looked at
Meir, then at the shattered window, and in the middle of the room on
the spot where the stone had fallen.

"What ails her?" asked the members of the family of each other, in a
perturbed voice.

"She is recalling something to her mind," others replied. "She is
afraid of something. She wants to speak, but cannot find words."

When the dinner was over, two great-granddaughters wanted to help
Freida into the next room and lay her down to rest as usual, but she
planted her feet firmly on the floor and pointed to the easy-chair by
the window. Presently the inmates of the room began gradually to
disperse.

Raphael and Ber went driving away to a neighbouring estate, where
they had some important business to transact. Abraham shut himself up
in his room to look after his accounts, or perhaps to read. Saul gave
orders to his daughter to keep the house quiet, and sighing wearily,
lay down upon his bed. The women, after raking out the fire in the
kitchen, shut the door of the sitting-room and betook themselves with
their needlework to the courtyard, where they watched the children at
play, and conversed together in a low voice. The great-grandmother
remained alone in the sitting-room.

Strange to say, though perfect silence reigned in the house, she did
not fall asleep or even doze for a moment.

She sat in the easy-chair with her eyes wide open, and looking at the
broken window, her lips kept moving continually as if she were
speaking to herself. Sometimes she rocked her head, heavy, with the
voluminous turban, and the diamonds flashed out and glittered in the
sudden motion, and the pendants jingled against the links of the
golden chain. Her lips moved incessantly. Presently her hands also
moved quickly. It seemed as if she spoke with somebody; with the
spirits of the Past, who came forth from her clouded memory. Suddenly
she rocked her head, and said aloud:

"It was the same way when my Hersh found the writing of the
Senior--bad people threw stones at him."

She stopped; great tears gathered in her eyes and ran down her
withered cheeks.

Meir rose from the bench where he had been sitting, crossed the room
quickly, sat down on the low stool where the old woman rested her
foot, and putting his folded hands upon her knee asked:

"Bobe! where is the writing of the Senior?"

At the sound of the voice which, as well as the face, reminded her of
the man she had loved