scarce recovering the surprise of
this extraordinary visit.

"I leave it, lady, ere this moon again changes. My father had a brother
high in favour with Mohammed Boabdil, King of Grenada--thither we go,
secure of peace and protection, for the payment of such ransom as the
Moslem exact from our people."

"And are you not then as well protected in England?" said Rowena.
"My husband has favour with the King--the King himself is just and
generous."

"Lady," said Rebecca, "I doubt it not--but the people of England are a
fierce race, quarrelling ever with their neighbours or among themselves,
and ready to plunge the sword into the bowels of each other. Such is
no safe abode for the children of my people. Ephraim is an heartless
dove--Issachar an over-laboured drudge, which stoops between two
burdens. Not in a land of war and blood, surrounded by hostile
neighbours, and distracted by internal factions, can Israel hope to rest
during her wanderings."

"But you, maiden," said Rowena--"you surely can have nothing to fear.
She who nursed the sick-bed of Ivanhoe," she continued, rising with
enthusiasm--"she can have nothing to fear in England, where Saxon and
Norman will contend who shall most do her honour."

"Thy speech is fair, lady," said Rebecca, "and thy purpose fairer; but
it may not be--there is a gulf betwixt us. Our breeding, our faith,
alike forbid either to pass over it. Farewell--yet, ere I go indulge me
one request. The bridal-veil hangs over thy face; deign to raise it, and
let me see the features of which fame speaks so highly."

"They are scarce worthy of being looked upon," said Rowena; "but,
expecting the same from my visitant, I remove the veil."

She took it off accordingly; and, partly from the consciousness of
beauty, partly from bashfulness, she blushed so intensely, that cheek,
brow, neck, and bosom, were suffused with crimson. Rebecca blushed also,
but it was a momentary feeling; and, mastered by higher emotions, past
slowly from her features like the crimson cloud, which changes colour
when the sun sinks beneath the horizon.

"Lady," she said, "the countenance you have deigned to show me will long
dwell in my remembrance. There reigns in it gentleness and goodness; and
if a tinge of the world's pride or vanities may mix with an expression
so lovely, how should we chide that which is of earth for bearing some
colour of its original? Long, long will I remember your features, and
bless God that I