"Yes, my daughter. Are you ready? Are the trunks packed? Can I do
anything more for you?" replied Mr. Mordecai, almost in one breath.

"Nearly ready, father. Aunt Barbara has about finished the last one,
and I am ready to leave you."

These words, so full of feeling, so sorrowfully spoken, too, struck
deep into the father's heart, and filled him with unspeakable
regret.

"Ready to leave me, daughter," he reiterated, half petulantly, "I
fear that you do not appreciate, or rather that you misinterpret my
motive in sending you on so grand a journey. How many girls there
are who vainly wish, from day to day, for such advantages as I am
offering you!"

To these words Leah made no reply. And Mr. Mordecai, walking
backward and forward with restless step across his daughter's
bed-chamber, secretly regretted that he had ever considered the
project for a moment. Then he said, half apologetically, "You shall
only stay a year, my daughter; that is not such a very long time."

"Maybe I shall never come back, father. But you will love me always,
won't you?"

"Hush! hush! child. I do not like your words. They distress me! A
year is a short time, you know; so don't be foolish. Come, braid up
your hair, arrange your dress, and come down at once into the
drawing-room. I must have some music to-night."