certainly
not at that period, or indeed for some time after our meeting again in
England, did it ever come into my ideas that I should ever feel anything
for her but good-will; but circumstances, and her father's confidence in
me, threw us much together. She has no mother. After a time I found
myself growing attached to her, and I taxed myself, and reflected on the
consequences. I was aware how very severe the Jewish laws were upon the
subject of any of their family uniting themselves to a Christian. That
it was not only considered that the party concerned was dishonoured
before the nation, but that the whole family became vile, and were
denied the usual burial rites. Perhaps you are aware that if a Jew
embraces Christianity, the same disgrace is heaped upon the relations.
With this knowledge, I determined to conquer my feelings for Miriam, and
of course I no longer went to her father's house; it would have been
cruel to put my friend (for such he certainly was) in such a position
the more so as, being a rabbi, he would have to denounce himself and his
own children.
"My absence was, however, the cause of great annoyance to the father.
He sought me, and I was so pressed by him to return, that I had no
choice, unless I confessed my reasons, which I did not like to do. I
therefore visited the house as before, although not so frequently, and
continually found myself in company with Miriam, and, her father being
constantly summoned away to the duties of his office, but too often
alone. I therefore resolved that I would once more set off on my
travels, as the only means by which I could act honourably, and get rid
of the feeling which was obtaining such a mastery over me. I went to
the house to state my intention, and at the same time bid them farewell;
when, ascending the stairs, I slipped and sprained my ankle so severely,
that I could not put my foot to the ground. This decided our fate; and
I was not only domiciled for a week in the house, but, as I lay on the
sofa, was continually attended by Miriam. Her father would not hear of
my removal, but declared that my accident was a judgment against me for
my rash intention.
"That Miriam showed her regard for me in every way that a modest maiden
could do, is certain. I did, however, make one last struggle; I did not
deny my feelings towards her, but I pointed out to her the consequences
which would ensue, which it was my duty as a friend, and her duty as a
daught
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