music was delicious, and Emile Le Grande, always fond of the divine
art, was bewitched with the beauty of her voice. When her singing
ceased, the sadness still rested upon her face, and in Emile's heart
there was a new-born sensation--that of pleasure mingled with fear.

The evening hours wore on. The hours that bore away the Jewish
Sabbath were rolling in the Christian day of rest, and Lizzie
Heartwell, in obedience to her uncle's request not to "tarry at her
pleasure too late," was the first to separate from the happy band.

An hour later, as the Citadel clock sounded the hour of midnight,
Judge Le Grande's carriage rolled rapidly toward the mansion of
Benjamin Mordecai, bearing home his beautiful daughter, escorted by
Emile Le Grande.

This night, as Lizzie Heartwell was slowly disrobing for the
remaining hours of slumber after her return home, she glanced into
the small mirror before her, and thought audibly--"Emile Le Grande
seemed quite charmed to-night with Leah; he hung around her like a
shadow, and part of the evening he seemed moody and almost
miserable. How strange if he should fall in love with her! She's a
grand girl. I don't think she could fancy Emile Le Grande. I wonder
why Leah called herself 'the despised' yesterday. Well, we shall
see."

Mrs. Levy's guests had departed, one by one, till the mother and
daughter were left alone in the deserted room.

"Mamma," Bertha said at length, shrugging her dainty figure, and
gazing thoughtfully into the fire, "I do believe that Emile Le