ha, "you had better confess all to your father. He
has a right to know."

Still the girl remained silent.

"Well, my child; who has stolen your heart?" asked the Rabbi, kindly.

"Father, I love Joseph Kierson," said Kathinka, faintly, hiding her
blushing face upon the Rabbi's shoulder.

"What, my former pupil?" asked the Rabbi, astonished. "I must have been
blind not to have observed it. And does he love you?"

"I think he does," she archly answered.

"But Joseph is poor," returned her father. "He has nothing and has as
yet no profession. He is merely a student at the University."

"But he has a brilliant intellect," retorted Kathinka, proudly. "I have
heard you say a dozen times that he will achieve renown. It is one of
your favorite maxims that a man must rise by his own exertions. Joseph
is destined to rise."

"How long has this understanding existed?" asked Mendel.

"We were fond of each other as children, when he first began his lessons
at _cheder_," replied the girl, earnestly; "but it was only recently
that he declared his love."

"He found that you were surrounded by admiring youths and feared that
you might be taken from him," added her mother.

"And did you promise to be his wife?" asked the Rabbi.

"Oh, no, father. I could not do that without your consent. He did not
even ask me. He simply told me that he deplored his ignorance and
poverty and that it was his intention to study medicine and become a
learned doctor that he might be worthy of obtaining my hand. That was
all."

"He could not have made it plainer. And what did you answer?"

"I encouraged him in his determination and told him I would wait."

"And that is why he requested me to speak to his parents and obtain
their consent to his pursuing a course of study, and that is why you
took such an interest in his welfare and were so pleased when I told you
that he had been admitted to the University."

"Yes," answered Kathinka, with radiant face.

"Do you know how long it will take before he has finished his course? He
cannot expect to obtain his diploma in less than six years."

"I know it," replied Kathinka.

"And then it will be some time before his profession will enable him to
support a wife."

"I know it. I will wait."

"Brave girl," said Mendel, fondly. "You are doing right and may he prove
worthy of you."

"Will it take so long?" asked the mother. "You will then be twenty-four
years old, Kathinka, and will be obliged to