, and they entered, and they found a lamp ready for them on the
stairs. "Had you not better come to my bed for to-night?" said Rebecca.

"Only that I should be in your way, I should be so glad."

"You shall not be in my way. Come, then. But first you must eat and
drink." Though Nina declared that she could not eat a morsel, and
wanted no drink but water, Rebecca tended upon her, bringing the food
and wine that were in truth so much needed. "And now, dear, I will help
you to bed. You are yet cold, and there you will be warm."

"But when shall I see him?"

"Nay, how can I tell? But, Nina, I will not keep him from you. He shall
come to you here when he chooses--if you choose it also."

"I do choose it--I do choose it," said Nina, sobbing in her weakness--
conscious of her weakness.

While Rebecca was yet assisting Nina--the Jewess kneeling as the
Christian sat on the bedside--there came a low rap at the door, and
Rebecca was summoned away. "I shall be but a moment," she said, and she
ran down to the front door.

"Is she here?" said Anton, hoarsely.

"Yes, she is here."

"The Lord be thanked! And can I not see her?"

"You cannot see her now, Anton. She is very weary, and all but in bed."

"To-morrow I may come?"

"Yes, to-morrow."

"And, tell me, how did you find her? Where did you find her?"

"To-morrow Anton, you shall be told--whatever there is to tell. For
to-night, is it not enough for you to know that she is with me? She
will share my bed, and I will be as a sister to her."

Then Anton spoke a word of warm blessing to his friend, and went his
way home.

CHAPTER XVI

Early in the following year, while the ground was yet bound with frost,
and the great plains of Bohemia were still covered with snow, a Jew and
his wife took their leave of Prague, and started for one of the great
cities of the west. They carried with them but little of the outward
signs of wealth, and but few of those appurtenances of comfort which
generally fall to the lot of brides among the rich; the man, however,
was well to do in the world, and was one who was not likely to bring
his wife to want. It need hardly be said that Anton Trendellsohn was
the man, and that Nina Balatka was his wife.

On the eve of their departure, Nina and her friend the Jewess had said
farewell to each other. "You will write to me from Frankfort?" said
Rebecca.

"Indeed I will," said Nina; "and you, you will write to me often, very
often?"