"My dear," said Mrs. Abrams, as Mark on this evening was preparing
to leave his house for that of his affianced, to make the last
necessary arrangements for the coming ceremony, "I wish you could be
with me to-night. A mother's heart calls for the last evening of her
son's free life, claims the last moments of the time when she can
call him exclusively her own. To-morrow, dear boy, you are no longer
mine. I shall have only a secondary claim upon your love and
companionship, and must in the future console myself with the
knowledge, that in losing a mother my son has gained a wife."

"O mother," replied Mark, with a troubled look, "don't speak so. I
am compelled to be at Mr. Mordecai's a little while to night, and
also to call at Crispin's, and see that my boot is stretched, and
then I'll hasten back. Tight boots on a wedding day, mother, will
not do at all, you know," added Mark playfully, as he stroked the
soft hair that waved back from the oval Jewish face-a pale, gentle
face it was. "I'll be back very soon."

"Brother Mark, isn't you glad my arm is so well? Mother says I may
go to the synagogue, too, to-morrow, and see you married," said the
innocent little sister, whose lacerated arm still hung in the snowy
bandage around her neck.

"Yes, dovey, indeed I am," replied Mark, bending down beside the
fair child, and tenderly caressing her. "If my little Rachel could
not be there, brother Mark would not consider himself well married.
I am only sorry that I haven't had a peep at that vicious dog that
hurt my darling so. Never mind, I am still ready and waiting for his
reappearance, and then I'll have revenge.--Good-night, dear mother,