hat she had followed Burrell to, and was now in,
England; and there was a long and formal expression of regret from the
Polish Jew that he had ever admitted the Christian beyond the threshold
of his door.
The villain breathed more freely when he ascertained that the fugitive
had not been traced from St. Vallery; and he felt he could have braved
the affair with perfect ease and indifference, but for the information
conveyed by Dalton's letter, and the consequent dread of Zillah's
appearing before him, perhaps at the very moment that the
often-asserted, and sworn to, lie passed his lips. It was now more
difficult to dissemble than he had ever yet found it; he saw clearly
that his oaths and protestations made but little impression upon the
mind of Ben Israel, who filled up every pause either by lamentations for
his daughter, execrations on her seducer, or touching appeals to one
whose feelings were centred in self, and who therefore had little
sympathy for sorrow that would have moved a heart of stone. Burrell was
so thoroughly overpowered by the events of the evening, that the only
point of exertion on which his mind rallied was a strong wish to rid
himself of the Jew as speedily as possible, so that he might find
opportunity to collect and arrange his thoughts--it therefore occurred
to him to assume the bearing of injured innocence, as protestations had
been of no avail; he accordingly said, in a tone and with a manner so
earnest, that at the moment it almost destroyed the suspicions of the
Rabbi:--
"Sir, I have over and over again asserted enough to convince any
rational person that I know nothing of the crime you impute to me;
having, in my own estimation, performed all that could be required, I
must now withdraw. If you please to lay your statement before his
Highness, I will defend myself, as I have now done, and let him judge
between thee and me."
"I have not been yet able to gain speech with the chosen in Israel,"
replied Manasseh: "he hath been much from home on secret service for the
good of his people."
Burrell exulted at this knowledge, and again protested his innocence in
the strongest terms. Manasseh rose to depart. Burrell pressed him to
remain; but the old man resolutely refused.
"I am about to go forth from your dwelling. If you have not been the
seducer of my child, I crave your pardon in deep humility, and will do
penance in sackcloth and ashes for having wrongfully accused you; but,"
he adde
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