anxious and nervous from the expected sorrow of the coming day, mr. mordecai rose early from his couch of restless slumber. restlessly he walked the library floor backward and forward, awaiting the appearance of his daughter leah. at length he said to his wife, as she summoned him to the morning meal, "it's very late. i wonder why leah does not come down. i'll just step to her room, and see if she is ready; fatigue and anxiety may have caused her to sleep later than usual this morning. i'll join you in the breakfast-room in a moment."

after a moment had elapsed, mr. mordecai stood gently tapping at his daughter's chamber door. there was no response. he gently opened it. the room was vacant. not a sound or a voice greeted his entrance. stiff and well-arranged, the elegant furniture stood mutely against the cold, cheerless walls. the ominous tidiness of the deserted bed-chamber bespoke a fearful story. the father stood for a moment in amazement, silently surveying the apartment, his heart half trembling with a vague fear; then he said, in a hoarse, frightened tone, "leah, my daughter, where are you?" there came no reply, but the faint echo of his whispered words, "where are you?"

stepping forward softly into the room, he paused again, and then with slow, uncertain step approached the casement that looked out upon the front garden. there was nothing without but the sunshine and the breeze, and the passing crowd already beginning to throng the streets. again he turned, with anxious heart, away from the crowd without, to the deserted room within. "where's my daughter? leah, dear leah, where are you?" a folded scrap of paper upon the escritoire caught his eye, and springing forward he seized it, half hopefully, half fearfully, and tremblingly unfolded it. these are the words it contained:

"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?"

in frenzy mr. mordecai smote his breast, tore his silvery locks, and bowed in grief as the fatal letter fell from his trembling hand. the depths of his sorrow were stirred, and the tears that flowed from his burning heart left the fountain dry and shrivelled. then, as the calm succeeds the storm, so, when this fierce tempest of emotion was passed, mr. mordecai regathered his strength, summoned the forces of his pride, revenge, and hatred, dispelled all traces of his sorrow, steeled himself for the duty before him, and with a heart of stone in a bosom of adamant, took up the letter and descended the stairs to the waiting family below. untasted before them was the morning meal. with wild look and emphatic step mr. mordecai entered the breakfast-room, and stood before the family holding the letter aloft in his trembling hand. "see here," said he, with a ringing voice, "read here the story of a child, that sought to break an aged father's heart. but hear me first. hear this my oath. this heart shall not break, i swear it shall not! leah has gone-fled with a christian dog, to become his wife. read it for yourselves when i am gone; but hear me, you that remain. sarah and frederick. my blessing shall never rest upon her, living or dying. as she has chosen to bring sorrow upon the gray hairs of her father, so may god rain trouble upon her disobedient head. may her children wander, uncircumcised dogs, friendless, and neglected-as she has neglected me-upon the face of the earth, ever seeking bread, yet feeling constant hunger! despised of her people, and rejected of her people's god, may she ever feel the need of a friend, and yet find none! her disobedience is cursed forever, so i swear it by the god of israel! mark my words, and remember my wrath!" he concluded, looking fiercely into the eyes of the two children who sat silent before him. "read this for yourselves; and then burn it, and scatter the ashes to the winds." no one made reply to that outburst of implacable, burning rage, that so consumed the father's heart. they had never seen him in such a frenzy before. mr. mordecai then hurriedly left the house, and passing mingo, at the porter's lodge, went out without a nod of recognition. urbanely bowing and smiling, mingo let his master pass, wondering at this singular breach of his accustomed politeness.

as the lodge door closed after mr. mordecai had passed out, mingo bethought him of something, and hastily pursuing his master, said:

"here, master, is this your yourn?"

"what?" asked the master morosely.

"this book, sir; i found it in the lodge."

mechanically, mr. mordecai took it from the servant, and placed it in the inner pocket of his coat, and then passed on without a word. in the house, all were startled, all dismayed, at the disclosure in the letter; all, save rebecca, were filled with sadness. she felt no regret. the brother and sister moved silently and sorrowfully about the house, and in and out of the vacated chamber, hardly realizing that their gentle sister had indeed gone.