CHAPTER XIX.





LEAH MORDECAI sat alone in the southern balcony of her father's
house one night in this same memorable August, the events of which
were so fully recorded in Emile's diary-sat alone enjoying the warm
silver moonlight that flooded all the world about her-sat alone,
thinking, dreaming, fearing, vaguely hoping. Suddenly the sound of
her mother's voice reached her from an adjoining room, and arrested
her attention. Involuntarily she listened. "Yes, dear husband, Leah
is anxious to go-unhappy even, at the fear of being denied."

"You surprise me, Rebecca," replied the fond husband and father; "I
never dreamed that Leah desired to visit Europe. She has never
mentioned it to me."

"No, nor will she ever. She fears your displeasure, shrinks from
betraying a desire to be separated from you, even for a short period
of time; but still she longs to go. Ever since Bertha Levy went to
Berlin, she has cherished a secret desire to go, too. You well know
that music is the passion of her soul, and Leah longs for culture
which she cannot obtain in this country."

"Dear child!" exclaimed the father, "she shall be gratified in her
desires, and study in the fatherland as long as she chooses. She has
always been a good, obedient, loving daughter, and deserves to be
rewarded." Then he added, after a moment's pause, and with