ss, and has turned Turk," roared the rabbis.

"Well, well," said Isaac, in rather an appeased tone, "let us hear what
the poor girl has got to say. Do you want to marry his royal highness,
Rebecca? Say the word, yes or no."

Another groan burst from the rabbis--they cried, shrieked, chattered,
gesticulated, furious to lose such a prize; as were the women, that she
should reign over them a second Esther.

"Silence," cried out Isaac; "let the girl speak. Speak boldly, Rebecca
dear, there's a good girl."

Rebecca was as pale as a stone. She folded her arms on her breast, and
felt the ring there. She looked round all the assembly, and then at
Isaac. "Father," she said, in a thrilling low steady voice, "I am not of
your religion--I am not of the Prince Boabdil's religion--I--I am of HIS
religion."

"His! whose, in the name of Moses, girl?" cried Isaac.

Rebecca clasped her hands on her beating chest and looked round with
dauntless eyes. "Of his," she said, "who saved my life and your honor:
of my dear, dear champion's. I never can be his, but I will be no
other's. Give my money to my kinsmen; it is that they long for. Take the
dross, Simeon and Solomon, Jonah and Jochanan, and divide it among you,
and leave me. I will never be yours, I tell you, never. Do you think,
after knowing him and hearing him speak,--after watching him wounded on
his pillow, and glorious in battle" (her eyes melted and kindled again
as she spoke these words), "I can mate with such as you? Go. Leave me
to myself. I am none of yours. I love him--I love him. Fate divides
us--long, long miles separate us; and I know we may never meet again.
But I love and bless him always. Yes, always. My prayers are his; my
faith is his. Yes, my faith is your faith, Wilfrid--Wilfrid! I have no
kindred more,--I am a Christian!"

At this last word there was such a row in the assembly, as my feeble pen
would in vain endeavor to depict. Old Isaac staggered back in a fit,
and nobody took the least notice of him. Groans, curses, yells of men,
shrieks of women, filled the room with such a furious jabbering, as
might have appalled any heart less stout than Rebecca's; but that brave
woman was prepared for all; expecting, and perhaps hoping, that death
would be her instant lot. There was but one creature who pitied her, and
that was her cousin and father's clerk, little Ben Davids, who was but
thirteen, and had only just begun to carry a bag, and whose crying and
boo-hooin