"'Happiness,' I whispered.
"'Wretchedness, you mean! Well, I forbid you ever thinking of him again. I shall never, never, consent to such a thing, never while I am your mother. Remember my words now!'
"Oh! Lizzie, wasn't that awful, mamma is so hard on him! I—"
"Bertha, Bertha!" called a voice from the opposite side of the room, which Bertha at once recognized as her mother's and immediately turned toward Mrs. Levy, leaving Lizzie standing alone.
"For shame, my daughter!" said Mrs. Levy, in a low tone to Bertha, "to keep Miss Heartwell standing talking all the evening about your supposed present from Asher Bernhardt! I shall not allow you company again until you improve in politeness, and I will destroy that cherished book. Do you hear me? Go at once and see that Miss Heartwell is seated."
Bertha bowed her head, in token of obedience, and as she turned back to join Lizzie, Leah Mordecai was approaching the piano, accompanied by Emile Le Grande.
Leah Mordecai was a superb singer, yet it was only at the request of friends that her soul flowed forth in song. On this evening her music was delicious, and Emile Le Grande, always fond of the divine art, was bewitched with the beauty of her voice. When her singing ceased, the sadness still rested upon her face, and in Emile's heart there was a new-born sensation—that of pleasure mingled with fear.
The evening hours wore on. The hours that bore away the Jewish
Sabbath were rolling in the Christian day of rest, and Lizzie
Heartwell, in obedience to her uncle's request not to "tarry at her
pleasure too late," was the first to separate from the happy band.
An hour later, as the Citadel clock sounded the hour of midnight,
Judge Le Grande's carriage rolled rapidly toward the mansion of
Benjamin Mordecai, bearing home his beautiful daughter, escorted by
Emile Le Grande.
This night, as Lizzie Heartwell was slowly disrobing for the remaining hours of slumber after her return home, she glanced into the small mirror before her, and thought audibly—"Emile Le Grande seemed quite charmed to-night with Leah; he hung around her like a shadow, and part of the evening he seemed moody and almost miserable. How strange if he should fall in love with her! She's a grand girl. I don't think she could fancy Emile Le Grande. I wonder why Leah called herself 'the despised' yesterday. Well, we shall see."