executed,--I wish it was the
bridegroom that was to be executed instead,--letters to be written, and
what not. So that you see I shall need your services very much. And
besides, Ishmael, my boy, I do not wish to part with you just now, in
this great trial of my life; for it is a great trial to me, Ishmael, to
part with my only child, to a foreigner whom I dislike and who will take
her across the sea to another world. I have loved you as a son, Ishmael.
And now I ask you to stand by me in this crisis--for I do not know how I
shall bear it. It will be to me like giving her up to death."

Ishmael arose and placed his hand in that of his old friend. His stately
young form was shaken by agitation, as an oak tree is by a storm, as he
said:

"I will remain with you, Judge Merlin. I will remain with you through
this trial. But oh, you do not know--you cannot know how terrible the
ordeal will be to me!"

A sudden light of revelation burst upon Judge Merlin's mind! He looked
into that agonized young face, clasped that true hand and said:

"Is it so, my boy? Oh, my poor boy, is it indeed so?"

"Make some excuse for me to the family below; say that I am not well,
for that indeed is true; I cannot come into the drawing room this
evening!" said Ishmael.

And he hastily wrung his friend's hand and hurried from the room, for
after that one touch of sympathy from Claudia's father he felt that if
he had stayed another moment he should have shamed his manhood and wept.

He hurried up into his little room to strive, in solitude and prayer,
with his great sorrow.

Meanwhile the judge took up his hat for a walk in the open air. He had
not seen his daughter since he had given his consent to her betrothal.
And he felt that as yet he would not see her. He wished to subdue his
own feelings of pain and regret before meeting her with the
congratulations which he wished to offer.

"After all," he said to himself, as he descended the stairs "after all,
I suppose, I should dislike any man in the world who should come to
marry Claudia, so it is not the viscount who is in fault; but I who am
unreasonable. But Ishmael! Ah, poor boy! poor boy! Heaven forgive
Claudia if she has had anything to do with this! And may Heaven comfort
him, for be deserves to be happy!"

CHAPTER LXIII.

THE BRIDE-ELECT.

She stands up her full height,
With her rich dress flowing round her,
And her eyes as fixed and bright
As the diamond stars